


A Second Chance At Happiness

by RoozetteR



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-24
Updated: 2007-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:39:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 92,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10162286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoozetteR/pseuds/RoozetteR
Summary: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness. *No update, simply editing slightly 12/08*





	1. The Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

No, not adding a new chapter to this story; it's still completed. However, a reviewer was kind enough to answer my questions on how to go back and fix mistakes without having to delete the entire story. This is my attempt to correctly edit. If I am successful, please say "Woot for Roo!" and move on. You may then ignore all other update notices as I will be editing this chapter by chapter.

If I am not successful, then you'll probably be sitting in front of your computer going "Why on earth does it say this story is updated when it's been completed for months? Roo, you're crazy." And lo there will be weeping and sorrow will blanket the land.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, never will. I am just a poor girl who uses her free time to daydream over two beautiful boys falling in love and going crazy. Draco and Harry are both boys, le gasp! So if H/D isn't your thing, close your eyes, cover your ears, and hum Mary Had A Little Lamb while desperately back clicking away from my story and its unsightly plot.

Kisses!  
Roo

HDHDHD

Deny. Deny. Deny.

As he took in the flushed teary eyed girl in front of him, Harry Potter absently repeated the one word to himself over and over. After all, he had won the war. He had defeated Voldemort. He had provided hope to the masses; comfort to those left behind, and was the bloody Savior for God’s sake. Didn’t he deserve a break?

Deny. Deny. Deny.

In the two years since the final battle at Hogwarts, Harry had struggled and fought against crushing obstacles. Andromeda Tonks, mad with grief over the loss of her daughter Nymphadora, had refused to let Harry or anyone from the Order near her grandson Teddy. No one aside from Hermione and Ron knew Remus wanted Harry as Teddy’s godfather, and most, in fact, believed the innocent baby was better off away from the influence of three battle scarred teenagers. 

George Weasley could not escape the loss of his twin. Perhaps no one will ever understand the unique bond twins share. One month to the day after the final battle, George quietly apparrated to the Weasley cemetery plot, lay atop his brother’s grave, and killed himself. Of course, no one blamed Harry. To his face. All the same, the welcoming warmth was notably absent from Molly’s hugs, none from the Weasley clan would meet Harry’s eye, and Ron began mumbling half hearted excuses to stay away. Hermione did what she could. She split her time between the burrow and Grimmauld Place without complaint. She never said a word as she practiced her cooking and forced Harry to eat. Never said a word while slipping into his room at night, to smooth his hair and hold him, as he sobbed out his grief and confusion. Never said a word as Draco Malfoy sauntered into the kitchen one night, looking defiant yet nervous and oddly vulnerable as he sat down to dinner. Never said a word as the weeks passed and Draco made no move to leave. Oh God, Draco…

Deny. Deny. Deny.

He never knew what Hermione had said to Draco to get him to come to dinner that night. All he knew was he owed his best friend for his life, such as it was. Narcissa Malfoy had learned from Draco that Harry was living alone, and whisked Harry off to Malfoy Manor before Harry quite realized what was happening. Like Hermione, Narcissa never said a word over the burgeoning relationship between Harry and her son – simply kissed his cheek and welcomed him to her family. She sheltered him from the never ending publicity, encouraged Harry to remember his dreams, reunited the Golden Trio with her grace and dignity, and, ultimately, shared his sorrow and gave him a reason to live once Draco was gone.

As power hungry as Voldemort had been, it should not have come as a surprise that he would consider it the ultimate gift to his faithful Death Eaters to allow them to die should he be overturned. After all, his loyal Death Eaters surely would never be content in a world intermixed with Muggles and Blood Traitors. In fact, it was only after the Inner Circle began falling when the world learned that shortly after Dumbledore’s death Voldemort had “blessed” his marking in such a way. Now they were gone, and Harry wanted to die too. But he couldn’t. He needed to take care of Narcissa. And now Hermione. Oh God, Ron…

Deny. Deny. Deny. 

Harry gazed blankly at Hermione’s oddly composed face, watching in fascination as her tears slid in one graceful arc after another over her pale cheeks to drip off her chin. One by one. Drip – drip – drip. Just as no one knew about the Death Eaters, no one thought to question why – nearly five years ago – there had been brains in the Department of Mystery. Dark secrets hoping to be discovered… until one foolish boy followed his best friend on an impulsive rescue mission, and had thoughts so dark they burned carve scars into his flesh. Madame Pomphrey had cleaned the wounds, but some scars never fade. And Harry knew all about cursed scars. 

Even dead, Voldemort continued to manipulate his life. 

“Harry? Honey, are you listening to me?”

At the strained question Harry snapped out of his bleak reverie and focused on the face of his closest friend. Even pale and ravaged by grief, Hermione Granger-Weasley radiated intelligence and security. She was also, he noted, looking at him as if he held the answer to the most important question in the world. “Sorry Hermione, I kinda drifted there for a minute,” he smiled apologetically. 

“That’s ok, Harry,” the witch replied carefully, “just please pay attention. “ Fixing him with a penetrating stare, Hermione leaned forward and grasped Harry’s hands tightly in her own. “We have to fix this Harry. We’re the only one’s who can. I have researched until I can’t see straight, and I think I know how to change it all. Of course, we would be breaking all kinds of laws and could very well find ourselves in Azkaban if we don’t succeed,” here she broke off to frown at the wall briefly. “And, of course, that could mean you don’t defeat… Well, it will be worth it. Yes,” she rubbed his hand briskly, “the potential good far outweighs any lingering doubts.”

The whole time she had been talking, Hermione had been using the same tone of voice she used back when they were students at Hogwarts and she explained assignments that made perfect sense to her and her alone. In fact, it was due to this patiently exasperated tone that Harry simply nodded stupidly at her for a few minutes before realizing she had neither completed an entire sentence, nor made one bit of sense. He had just opened his mouth to question her, when a calm and cultured tone drifted over from his left. 

“You’re going back, aren’t you?”

Starting slightly, Harry and Hermione whirled to see Narcissa standing in the doorway, an elf pushing a tea trolley slightly behind her. Harry frowned, equally puzzled by Narcissa’s question as Hermione’s rant, when he noticed Hermione gazing at Narcissa as though she were the most brilliant woman she had ever seen, and nodding enthusiastically. 

“Err…” Harry momentarily regretted his confused offering when both women’s attention sharply returned to him. “It’s just… sorry, but… err… what?”

Sharing a look of perfect understanding with Hermione, Narcissa swept into the room as thought nothing were amiss and directed the house elf in setting up their afternoon tea before dismissing him with a wave of her hand. Sipping her tea, Narcissa gazed at him a moment before quietly stating, “Harry, you are the most powerful wizard around. If anybody had the ability to manipulate time, and return to their past in order to right a grievous wrong, I believe it is you.”

Harry looked at her in shock, blushing slightly from such a strong compliment from the woman he considered his mother. His thoughts were swirling madly in his head. Surely she was not implying what he thought she was? Surely not. Directing his gaze to Hermione, he met her look unflinchingly and muttered the spell before he quite realized what he was doing. Instantly his mind was flooded with images – Hermione weeping in St. Mungo’s while an ashen faced Ron gripped her hand like a lifeline, pouring over books, writing and rewriting ancient runes and arithmetic equations, Harry’s face as he gazed at Draco’s tombstone, more books, runes dancing and whirling – and It clicked. Harry looked at Hermione as if he had never seen her before, not even aware of the sharp look Narcissa was sending him. “You want me to go back in time and stop Voldemort from placing that curse on his Death Eaters.”

Surely that wasn’t his voice – so cold, so strained, so oddly detached from himself. Hermione flinched slightly even as she squared her shoulders and opened her mouth, only to abruptly shut it as Harry waved his hand in an absent gesture of silence. Go back in time. He could save Draco, Ron, maybe even Fred and Lupin. Harry’s head felt heavy; almost absently he raised his right hand to rub his scar. “You said wizards can’t play with time. Third year. You told me if wizards saw their counterparts they might even try to kill themselves. How…”

“Harry,” Hermione began carefully, “This wouldn’t be a simple spell. Not only would we be sent back to shortly before Dumbledore was…” she trailed off briefly before squaring her shoulders resolutely. “We would merge into our bodies and stay there.” Harry’s head snapped up at this and Hermione continued in a breathless rush. “Whenever time we chose. We would keep our memories and improved abilities from this time, but would have to continue life on from that point. We would have to attend school and…”

“… and I would still have to battle Voldemort.” Harry interrupted dully. Half afraid of his reaction, Hermione nodded slowly. 

He remembered the fear, the pain, and the sense of isolation and of slowly losing his mind. Could he survive that a second time? Harry became aware of a burning sensation on his face, and turned his head to meet the pale face of Narcissa. For a moment, he simply gazed at her. He noticed the frail body, nearly gaunt from battling the grief of losing both her husband and only son, the beautiful and proud face prematurely wrinkled, the eyes, so like Draco’s… eyes that had been dull but were now burning with an almost desperate plea for hope. 

And Harry knew he would do it. He would find a way to survive it. Because as much as he could not fathom a future without Draco and his family, he knew he would never be able to live with himself if he was the one to destroy the light in both Narcissa and Hermione’s eyes. Standing up, he paced to the window and stared at the garden, frozen in the last frost of winter. Already he could see leaves and buds peeking out, fragile and timid as they rose toward the overcast sky in a bid for warmth. He wondered if Sirius had ever done that. Ever stood outside in the early morning, face tipped up to the sun after having spent so long trapped in the dark. Oh God, Sirius… how he needed…

And with a jolt he knew what he had to do. Turning, he faced the two witches gazing at him anxiously. “If I do this,” he started heavily, noticing the tears welling up in Hermione’s eyes as she recognized his sentence for the acceptance she prayed for, “We need to go back for Sirius, too.”

For a moment there was absolute silence. Then, with a soft clicking noise, Narcissa placed her saucer on the coffee table and smoothed imaginary wrinkled out of her dress. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “had Dolores Umbridge not been placed at Hogwarts, who knows how much quicker you would have succeeded in defeating the Dark Lord.” She smiled as Harry and Hermione looked first at each other, then at her. “My dears,” she continued, eyes sparkling as the plan whirled through her head, “I think you should go back and have her removed from the equation all together.”

Harry snorted angrily, beginning to pace almost absently. “Fat chance there… you remember how stupid Fudge was. Denying Voldemort’s return! Saying Dumbledore and I were crazy, attention seeking prats. She made my life Hell! Why don’t I just go back to fourth year and stop Voldemort from returning all together.” The moment the words left his mouth Harry felt emotions erupt violently inside of him, swirling chaotically as the ramifications of what he had just said slammed into him. He could prevent Voldemort rising again, he could save Cedric…

“No!” Hermione looked at him almost desperately. “Harry, please! I know what you’re thinking, but Voldemort needs to come back to a body!” Noticing the way Harry’s eyes stormed over with anger, Hermione quickly rose and walked over to stand in front of him. “Harry please,” she whispered in a voice hoarse with unshed tears, “you needed to experience that situation. That’s where you learned about the horcruxes, that’s when you learned how strong you truly were, and that’s where Voldemort learned to first fear you.” Harry looked away and scowled out the window. “Harry… we can go back to the summer before fifth year, you can prevent Nagini attacking Arthur, you can prevent Sirius…” she hesitated, “you can prevent Sirius,” she repeated firmly. “We’ll find a way to get rid of Umbridge.”

“How,” Harry asked bitterly, glaring at the garden.

“You will have me appointed the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor.”

Harry and Hermione turned around to gape at Narcissa in unison. She met their gaze unflinchingly, and, if anything, raised her chin even higher. “Think about it,” she stated calmly, “who better than the wife of a suspected Death Eater to be in a position of authority around impressionable children.” She met their eyes as they processed that statement. “You must simply find a way to contact me and make me understand your plight, and then you will have assistance both inside and outside Hogwarts in finding a way to destroy him.”

Hermione gripped Harry’s arm in excitement, as the pieces fell into place for her. No Umbridge… they would be able to learn useful spells, Hell, Harry could turn class into an extended DA meeting with Narcissa’s help. They could look for Horcruxes on weekends – they already knew where they were! Voldemort would think he was infiltrating Hogwarts, and at the same time they could prevent needless deaths. Harry and Hermione gazed at each other as the plan suddenly became materialistic and real to them. They could defeat Voldemort before they graduated. Their lives would be substantially different.

Harry wanted to protest and scream at the unfairness of the request, but he couldn’t. Even as he stared back at Hermione, his vision was blurred by images of the twins playing Quidditch and laughing like loons, flying through a star studded sky with Hermione and Sirius, Ron – risking everything – to help in a fruitless quest. He could see Draco smiling at him, Moony hugging him after teaching him to repel Dementors, Tonks hopefully flicking her wand at a twitching sock in his bedroom at the Dursley’s, Colin Creevey grinning at him behind the lens of the camera. Draco is kissing him, Hedwig nipping his ear affectionately, Dobby fighting with Kreacher over who was more of a help to Harry, Moody sitting at the kitchen table while his magical eye spun wildly in a glass of water, Snape inadvertently teaching Harry Expelliarmous. 

Could he do this? Could he save them all? Would he be able to hug Snape and thank him for everything he risked to keep him safe? Hug Sirius and Moony, savoring the last link to his parents? Prevent Dumbledore from putting on that cursed ring and exposing himself to death? Harry wasn’t aware he was crying, until he felt Narcissa and Hermione enfold him in their arms. They stood there, quiet, reflective, for a long time. Finally, Harry raised his head.

“I want to try.”

He released a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding. Hermione shrieked and gripped him tighter, while Narcissa allowed the first tear to slide down her face. Suddenly they were laughing together – a wild, carefree laugh that hadn’t been heard in a long time. 

Briskly Narcissa stepped back and wiped her face. “Well, then, let’s get to work.”

HDHDHD

It was another two weeks before they were ready to execute the plan. Narcissa made the potion, Hermione tweaked the spell, and Harry developed a way to transport certain items with them. He didn’t need to worry about his cloak or map – he had them with his fourteen year old self – but he would need unregistered wands since he couldn’t take Draco’s or Ron’s… they would have them and Hermione wasn’t sure if they would vanish or not work when their owner’s had the same item. Narcissa had written herself a letter and sealed it with a package, instructing Harry to deliver it to her past self to ensure aid. They had also brainstormed various magical connections to form – alliances, possibly, with elves and goblins and veela, to make their task easier. They were going to hit the ground running when they got there, and uses the entire summer to their advantage. 

Now Harry and Hermione were sitting in front of each other while Narcissa stood over them magically linking their wrist together. 

“From here to there  
Where once went too wrong  
Let these two bear  
So selfless and strong”

Narcissa waved her wand and ancient runes swirled out to spin gently around the two friends.

Not to switch  
But to replace  
I cast this wizard and witch  
To relieve the wizarding race

In unison Harry and Hermione raised their unclasped hands and drank the vial of potion. Harry shuddered as he felt a jolt spread through his system. He dimly noted that if this didn’t work he wouldn’t need to worry about Azkaban, as he was fairly certain he had just poisoned himself. As if in defiance to this thought, a strong burst of wind whispered out around the two. Harry raised his eyes and met the burning gaze of Hermione, smiling over the thought that at least he would die with his last and greatest friend. 

“Hermione,” he whispered frantically, suddenly gripped with an urgent need to know, “what did you say to Draco to get him to come to dinner?”

Hermione gazed blankly at him for a moment before bursting into a brilliant smile. “ He told me he had been in love with you since he watched you battling a dragon. I simply told him you loved him too.”

Harry desperately wanted to reply, to question her certainty over a fact he hadn’t even really been aware of, but the wind was now roaring around the two of them. He distantly made out the sound of Narcissa screaming something when his heart simply burst out of his chest. He was sure he yelled, he could hear Hermione sobbing, when a vibrant purple light seemed to explode in the circle between them. ‘Pretty,’ he thought vaguely, before everything went black.


	2. It Begins

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

Harry released his breath in a gasping rush. His head was spinning and aching at a dizzying rate – his brain felt like it was swelling and preparing to bleed out his eyes. He slammed his eyelids shut just in case. Slowly, his heart calmed down enough that he was able to grasp his surroundings. Was he lying on cement? No, no, he could feel a rough scratching against his back. Carpet, perhaps? Cautiously opening his eyes, he caught a blurry image of walls and cluttering shapes. What the…? He dimly noted the outline of a body standing in an archway – was that a door? – and a muffled shrieking noise, before the blackness overtook him again. 

He became aware of his body before he allowed his eyes to open. There was softness underneath him, somehow familiar and unpleasant at the same time. Someone was sitting nearby and gently brushing something damp and cool against his forehead. Ah yes, he’d felt his head connect sharply with something. That explained the headache. Sighing, Harry turned into the touch. It hadn’t worked then. Fully expecting to see Narcissa sitting vigil by his bedside, Harry reluctantly opened his eyes and then sat up with a shriek when the figure came into sharper focus.

“Aunt Petunia????”

Ah shit, he’d somehow managed to block the fact that going back to his fourteen year old self meant spending quality bonding time with his relatives. Oddly enough, Petunia Dursley was sitting on his bed. Having never known her to once willingly enter his room while he was home, Harry gaped at her for a few minutes before he realized her eyes were suspiciously red and she was trembling slightly. “You…” she started weakly, before sagging slightly and staring down at the cloth now clenched into her fists. “You were going into your bedroom and started,” she shuddered, “you started screaming. Then you fell over and… and…” Glancing at the window as though afraid the neighbors would see her sitting with her disturbed nephew, Petunia sighed. “You’ve been unconscious for nearly two hours. I didn’t know if I should call someone, so I just,” she gestured vaguely at the bed before once again going silent. 

For the first time, Harry became aware of a thickness on his head. Raising his hand to his head, Harry felt a bandage placed tightly over his left temple. Glancing around, he noted the trail of blood on the floor and bed. Had Petunia dragged him into bed? Was she sitting near him to make sure he woke up? Opening his mouth, Harry shut it just as quickly. He’d never been… err… close… with his family, and hadn’t, in fact, seen them more than twice in the two years since the war ended. “Oh,” he responded lamely. 

Nodding once, Petunia swiftly rose from the bed and marched to the doorway. Hesitantly, she glanced over her shoulder and met his eyes briefly before turning away again. “I’ll bring you some soup.” The door closed quietly behind her. Harry turned to blink stupidly at the door for a few minutes before cautiously rising to gather clean clothes for a shower. He’d been fourteen - well, consciously - for only a few minutes, and life was already crazy again.

Refreshed, Harry crawled under the bed and reached into his secret space under the floorboards. Please have worked, please have worked… Harry breathed a sigh of relief at the precious bundle sitting amongst his most treasured possessions. Returning to his bed, Harry dumped out Hermione’s magical purse – the one that had literally saved their life while searching for Horcruxes. He rummaged around until he found Narcissa’s package and Hermione’s new wand. Jotting off a swift note to Hermione, he called Hedwig over to him. After absently petting her for a few minutes, remembering with happiness the softness of her feathers and the immeasurable comfort she provided him, he softly whispered, “I have really missed you girl. I haven’t seen you in years, or, well, a few minutes to you, but not a day went by that I didn’t think of you. You have always been my first and finest friend.” Hedwig hooted softly and nibbled at his fingers in reply. Grinning, he continued, “First, Hedwig, can you take this to Hermione? Don’t stay too long, it’s really important that this other letter gets to Narcissa as fast as possible. Narcissa Malfoy. Only…” he hesitated as memories of Lucius Malfoy before the end of the war flooded his brain, “only make sure she’s alone, ok? Stay away if anyone is near her. Please?” Cuffing his head affably in agreement, Hedwig soared out the window. 

Harry let a tear fall as he wondered if he had just been robbed of saying goodbye forever to Hedwig for a second time, before squaring his shoulders. There was a brilliant light shining in his eyes as he focused on the purse yet again, and pulled out his To Do List. 

HDHDHD

“But darling you’re still dreadfully pale, are you sure you can’t postpone leaving until tomorrow?”

As much as she loved her parents, Hermione Granger had to clamp down on her lip hard to suppress a scream as the questioned was asked for the hundredth time in the last hour. True, to them, she had suddenly gasped and arched her back – nearly falling off her chair at the dinner table – but she had recovered fairly quickly. After escaping to her room (dear God had she really loved this color of green?) and composing herself, she noticed from the neatly crossed off days on her desk calendar that Tonks would be by today to take her to Order headquarters for the rest of the summer. She had to go, no matter how weak and flushed she still felt. She needed to see Ron and the others. Needed to hold them and reassure herself that she wasn’t slowly going crazy and this really was a viable plan. She desperately wanted to hear from Harry, but the jerk not only had her wand but was the one of them who actually owned an owl. How dare he be more prepared than her? 

“Mom, I am fine. I promise. Maybe my body was telling me I am going to start my period out of cycle or go through premature menopause or something.” Ignoring her father’s blush and her mom’s frown of disapproval, Hermione continued on in the same rational tone of voice, “I need to be there. Several professors are extending this unique studying opportunity for preparing for secondary education. It’s the same equivalent as… as…” gesturing widely as she racked her aching head for a quick excuse “free university courses!” Hermione allowed herself a moment of triumph as her parents relaxed and nodded their heads. She may have been only fourteen again for only a short while, but no way was she stupid enough to tell her parents she was being sent to security in order to hide from an evil dictator out for the blood of her best friend. 

Really, how could she be expected to lie convincingly when Harry still hadn’t contacted her? He had to have arrived at the same time as her, right? Although what if he hadn’t? What if he was lying in some parallel universe, or was transported to the Americas. People would take one look at Harry and think he was some obsessed Sci-Fi Fantasy fan and have him committed. Oh no, she had just condemned the Savior of the World to a fate worth than death. Just as she was convincing herself to march to the nearest forest and physically wrestle an owl down to do her bidding, Hedwig soared through her bedroom window. Beaming, Hermione gave the beautiful owl a quick cuddle before accepting her unregistered wand and the note. 

Right then. Stage one complete. All she had to do was get to headquarters and wait for Harry to tell her Narcissa had agreed to turn her back on her husband’s idea of paradise. No problem. 

HDHDHD

Further away, Narcissa Malfoy sat in her private rooms gazing out the window. Simply from looking at her calm face and proper posture, one would never know the bleakness of her thoughts. She hated Malfoy Manor. She hated living in fear, being shunned from people whose respect she desperately craved, and watching her husband slip further and further away from her. Now that He was back, Narcissa knew her life would only continue to decline, until finally she withered away to nothing. It would only be a matter of time before her darling Draco was sucked into the madness surrounding his father, and then she really would have nothing left. 

Narcissa refocused her eyes, and was slightly startled to see warm hazel eyes staring back at her. The owl was beautiful – snowy white, with an intelligent air about her. She was well loved and nurtured. Pausing only briefly, Narcissa opened the window and allowed the bird to enter. They regarded each other silently, before the owl solemnly offered the package secured to her leg. Equally somber, Narcissa accepted. The owl hooted gently to her, almost kindly, before flying off. Now that was weird. Only half nervous, Narcissa opened the package. What the… is that HER handwriting?

Narcissa, 

My, how dreadfully awkward it is addressing a letter to oneself. Normally, I would not dare, but I remember the coldness of that summer. So I take the chance. In the box you will discover my most precious memories of the last four years. I ask only that you – well, I – view them and then seek out Harry Potter before making a decision one way or the other. There is a lot to fear, and a lot to be fearful for right now. Please know, at this time Harry and his little friends Hermione and Ron are the only ones capable of ensuring current and future happiness. 

Please, view the memories. View them alone; view them more than once, whatever you please. Then seek out Harry, If you apparrate to the address written on the bottom of this form, you will arrive on the sidewalk in front of his relatives home. Ghastly people. He will come out to meet you, as his wards surrounding him prevent non-approved magical essence from entering his home, and then Port Key you both to a secure location to talk. If I remember correctly, he is rather underfed, so perhaps a meal would go far to relieve tension on both sides. 

Please trust.  
NM

Narcissa gazed at the letter, swiftly rereading it, before cautiously picking up the box. The vial was warm in her hands and pulsing with an almost ethereal glow – as though revealing secrets not yet cemented in time. The memories flowed smoothly into the pensieve, and sparkled once before calming. Yes, these were definitely her memories. No spell – light or dark – can alter the magical signature of a witch or her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she plunged her head and fell down into a cool rush of feeling.

Half an hour later she rose with a gasp, clutching her hand to her shattered heart. Hardly bothering to instruct an elf to inform her family she was leaving the manor for awhile and to clean up her supplies, Narcissa donned a heavy cloak and apparrated away. 

HDHDHD

Harry stared out the front window, willing Narcissa to appear. Hedwig had returned hours ago, Hermione had penned she was now safely ensconced with her “classmates,” and Harry was rapidly falling apart. So much relied on Narcissa. Unwilling to journey with them – citing no mother was strong enough to sanely view her own child after remembering death - it was crucial that whatever Narcissa sent her past self be strong enough motivation to get her to Harry… well, without bringing along Death Eaters, anyway. She had to accept the job at school. Had to. This, after all, was the summer of the prophecy. Dumbledore would not be looking or speaking to him, Snape with his damn Occlumency lessons… he needed to have an adult at Hogwarts willing to break the rules enough for side-along apparition without asking too many questions. Needed to keep Umbridge, the miserable toad, and her ministry-approved hypocrisy, as far away from Hogwarts as possible – though he would miss the memory of her and the centaurs. Needed the mother of the one he so desperately loved to approve and offer reassurance. 

“Boy! What are you doing in front of the window? Get away! Get away before any of the neighbors see. Your lot is not welcome here!”

Ignoring the taunts, Harry turned to face his Uncle Vernon with a coolly amused smile. Somehow, knowing the man would be riddled with ulcers in the future took a lot of resentment away from Harry. “I will be going out shortly.” He replied instead. “Should any of,” he smirked, “my lot come looking for me. Tell them you don’t know where I am going, who I will be with, or when I will come back.” Reading his Uncle’s brightening expression correctly; Harry snorted and said, “Sorry, I will be coming back.”

Ignoring the spluttering behind him, Harry turned back to the window. And then there she was. Looking cool and untouchable in the sunshine, staring at the house with an unreadable expression, Narcissa Malfoy stood on the sidewalk with her nose in the air; waiting. “See ya,” Harry mumbled hastily before dashing out the door. 

Harry kept his right hand in his pocket as he forced himself to walk towards her slowly. After all, watching the Boy Who Lived dash towards the wife of a Death Eater, especially after the events of last term, would never do. They gazed at one another silently, sizing the other up. Harry waited, ignoring the sweat sliding down the back of his neck: it was crucial she reach out to him first. Finally, Narcissa extended a hand towards him. “Mr. Potter,” she formally greeted.

Harry simply grinned. “Brace yourself,” he answered cheekily, before pressing the button to activate the Port Key. Even as he felt the tell tale lurch underneath his belly button, Harry glanced over Narcissa’s shoulder into the terrified face of Remus Lupin. Oh shit, he thought, for the second time that day, I forgot I was being followed. 

HDHDHD

To Narcissa’s utter confusion, and Harry secret relief, they arrived in a dizzying rush in a rarely used portion of Malfoy Manor. Collecting herself admirably, Narcissa calmly called for a house elf to bring tea. After setting up the necessary refreshments, Narcissa gazed at Harry in such a refreshingly familiar way that Harry simply had to grin at her. “Mr. Potter…” she began.

“Harry,” he interrupted quickly. “Please? You always call me Harry.”

Her gaze softened slightly. “Harry, then,” she conceded with a nod. “Are you aware of precisely what was sent to me today?”

“Err…” he began, typically articulate after being thrown off guard. “Well, I had Hedwig, my owl, deliver a package… but you asked me not to open it. Err… that is, you, your future self, umm.. , well, you asked me to simply make sure you got it and then ask you for help,” he finished, desperately embarrassed and flustered, 

Narcissa looked at Harry in amusement. “I suggest, Harry, that you start at the beginning and tell me everything.”

So he did. He told her about ending the war, the way she had saved him and he in turn led her to Draco, falling for Draco, the curse, their mutual devastation, loving her like a mother. He told her of Hermione’s agonizing plea, the plan, the ritual, their need for her to work at Hogwarts. Everything. And in the end, he had a sore throat and Narcissa looked faintly bewildered. 

“Right,” she stated, placing her tea cup down with a snap, “you will stay the night.” Harry shot her a rather panicked look at that – he was NOT safe around Lucius yet, especially so soon after fleeing him in the graveyard. “My husband, regrettably, is away at the moment,” Narcissa smirked at him, “he will not be joining us. Wait here, I will instruct a house elf to prepare you a room.” Knowing full well Narcissa could easily order an elf from where she sat, but recognizing her need to get away and process everything she had learned, Harry simply nodded. 

Lost in contemplation, he had no idea how long he sat there when a sudden noise in the doorway alerted him to the presence of another. Looking up, Harry stared into the gob-smacked face of Draco Malfoy.

“POTTER,” he yelled incredulously.

Harry barely heard. All he could see was Draco’s face. Without really being aware of it, Harry dropped his tea cup and walked towards the blond. Draco looked suddenly apprehensive, and flicked his eyes to Harry’s hand, searching for a wand. His eyes widened further as Harry walked straight to him, yanked Draco against him, and kissed him.

Hot pleasure flooded through Harry at the contact, even as Draco squeaked and jerked in surprise against him. Ignoring Draco’s murmur, Harry slid his tongue across the seam of Draco’s mouth, taking advantage of Draco’s sharp gasp to plunder his mouth. Somewhere along the way Harry had backed Draco up against the wall, and even as one of Draco’s hands gripped desperately in his hair, his other slid around Harry’s back. Neither boy acknowledged this. Draco, in part, because he was certain this was a dream and he would wake up momentarily; cold and alone. Harry, because he was too busy absorbing the rush of feeling flooding through his body. This was his Draco. His happiness. His love. Tasting so familiar, yet so different, all at once. Harry could have happily stayed here forever, swallowing Draco’s moans, feeling the silky texture of his hair, pressing so close to Draco they were almost fused together.

“Well, Draco. Obviously you have been introduced to our guest. Harry, dear, kindly do remove your hand from under my son’s shirt. This is a home, not a brothel.”


	3. Stage Two

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

For the first time in several years, were someone to ask Harry his opinion of Narcissa Malfoy, the end result would be less than flattering. 

The moment Draco heard his mother’s voice; he went completely stiff in Harry’s arms. Apparently, that was all that was needed for Draco to realize this encounter was not, in fact, a dream. Harry, on the other hand, was used to a Narcissa who smiled indulgently at her son with Harry; who had, on one memorable occasion, seen quite a bit more of both of them than propriety allowed. Sighing, Harry looked at Draco… and immediately wished he hadn’t as the sight of his flushed face and swollen mouth was more than enough incentive for Harry to tune Narcissa right back out and drag Draco away. He did, after all, know where Draco’s bedroom was. However, the slight interruption was enough to remind him that a fifteen year old Draco Malfoy was slightly different than an eighteen or nineteen year old Draco Malfoy. This Draco was not comfortable displaying affection to Harry. 

He sighed again. 

“Potter…” Draco began in a warning growl, pressing his no longer roving hands firmly against Harry’s chest and pushing him away, “you…”

What he was Harry didn’t discover, as Narcissa chose that moment to drag Harry to the guest bedroom she had allotted. Instructing him to stay put until dinner, she calmly informed Draco that Harry was their guest for the evening, and she did not want to hear of anybody – including his father – discovering their housemate. She then wished Harry a pleasant afternoon and ordered a still spluttering Draco to follow her down the hall.

The room was beautiful. Vaulted ceilings, done in cream and varying shades of blue, the room shouted at comfort and welcome. Very Narcissa, and utterly opposite the ostentatious formal rooms that elder generations of Malfoy’s had decorated. As refreshing as the room was, however, Harry was desperately itching to do something… anything… He could not believe how enervated he had become from one small interaction with Draco. Yet after not seeing him for several months, Harry truly felt as though a portion of his soul had been returned to him. Giving up on entertaining himself, Harry deliberately disobeyed Narcissa’s command and started wandering down the hallway towards the parlor and dining room. He had been in the Manor only once during the war, a terrifying night he still associated with Hermione screaming, but never before the actual war itself. He rather enjoyed this time alone to explore. 

“Please tell me,” a cold voice hissed out that immediately had Harry freezing in place, “precisely what the fuck you think you are doing.”

Feeling every inch a precocious teenager, Harry turned and stared into the fathomless gaze of Severus Snape. A highly agitated Severus Snape. A Severus Snape who looked as though tearing Harry apart limb from limb would be both a highly entertaining and well earned punishment. 

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Lupin had seen him disappear with Narcissa. He must have gone straight to the Order, who in turn sent their spy out to find out what was going on. How the Hell was he going to explain to the man that he willingly went with the mother of his most hated enemy?! For a moment, all Harry could do was stare at Snape in fear and confusion – before some other emotion started welling up inside of him. Snape was alive; he was here; he was still looking out for Harry. Suddenly Harry had to blink back tears as he looked into the glowering face of the man who had loathed him and protected him better than anyone else in his life. 

“Well?” Snape bit out, only to freeze further as Harry launched himself into his arms. Harry ignored completely the fact that Snape immediately stiffened in his arms, ignored the fact that he should be embarrassed to let the man see him cry. He simply held on to Snape and absorbed the energy he radiated. Snape was alive. “Potter? Have they harmed you? Are you ill?” Snape clearly was not comfortable with random displays of affection, and naturally concluded that Harry would not be hugging him without provocation. Or having been tortured into insanity. Whatever. 

Harry grinned, delighted at the prospect of having dinner with someone he desperately wished to thank, his boyfriend, and his love’s mother. Wait… no, he couldn’t. How could he possibly explain Snape turning up at the mansion? Narcissa knew Snape was a Death Eater – no way could he be seen with Harry.

Suddenly feeling very old and tired, Harry shoved Snape away from him. “You have to leave,” he said flatly. “I’m fine, I promise. They haven’t hurt me.” If anything, Snape looked even angrier, though at the words he tilted his head a little, as though examining a specimen under a microscope. He opened his mouth to speak but Harry cut him off. “Look, I know you were worried, and that’s my fault. I should have realized Moony would go to you, and I’m sorry. But I am planning something, and it’s crucial none of this gets out. Look… go talk to Hermione. If you get her alone, she’ll tell you – if you swear not to tell Dumbledore or anyone else.” Snape’s eyes narrowed, and again Harry cut him off. “No, I am not being reckless or stupid. Actually…err… maybe I kinda am. But I have a plan. If you can prove that I can trust you not to tell anyone I’ll tell you everything. Only... well, this summer Dumbledore had his reasons not talking to me, right? I remember. So, let him do what he needs to do, and I’ll do what I intend.” A sudden thought slammed into Harry. “Only, um… if you interrogate Hermione you need to put an Imperturbable Charm on the door to keep it secret – if I remember correctly the twins developed their Extendable Ears this summer.”

Snape gazed at him for a moment before speaking very softly. “Had? Developed?”

Fuck. Leave it to Snape to notice the difference in tenses. Harry opened his mouth to offer a lame excuse when a sudden noise alerted him to the fact they were having this conversation in a hallway. A very open hallway. Inside Malfoy Manor. “Look,” Harry whispered urgently, already backing up, “just leave, ok? You never saw me if Narcissa or Draco asks. You were just… looking for a potion ingredient or something. I’ll be back…” no way was he saying he was going home “… at the Dursley’s tomorrow. Just please don’t say anything. Tell everyone I’m fine, ok?” Begging him with his eyes, Harry turned and ran back to his room.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Draco, for his part, had decided to ignore Harry completely; the occasional venomous glare his only form of communication. However, the one time Harry met his eyes, the wash of pink across Draco’s face told him precisely why Draco refused to interact. After a penetrating look at Narcissa, Harry concluded Snape must have disappeared, and allowed himself to relax and work on making Draco blush as much as possible. Although, if asked, Harry would not be able to tell what he had eaten, it was one of the best meals he’d ever had. After dinner Draco escaped to his room with a muttered good night, and Narcissa and Harry adjourned into the living room. 

It was now time to implement Stage Two.

HDHDHD

Dark and difficult times lie ahead. 

Had he not parroted that to the children he’d sworn to protect just mere months ago? Sighing, Albus Dumbledore frowned down at his desk. It had been three days since Harry had reappeared just as suddenly as he had left back at his relatives home, and still no one knew what he had been doing in the company of Malfoy’s to begin with. Snape knew more that he was letting on, Dumbledore would almost swear it. After all, when questioned hadn’t his eyes lit up with the same disturbing light they had held when Dumbledore had ordered him back to Voldemort’s side? Was it no longer safe to trust him? Sure, he knew Snape’s original reason for joining the Order, but with his hatred towards Harry, was Snape still trustworthy? And now with this recent development…. 

As though in sympathy for his addled thoughts, Fawkes let out a quiet trill of reassurance. Gaining comfort as always, Dumbledore gazed at the beautiful Phoenix moments before a quiet knock alerted him to the arrival of his next appointment. Mentally bracing himself, he called out admittance.

Looking regal and intimidating, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy swept into the office. After declining both Lemon Drop and offer of tea, Dumbledore’s face gave away nothing of his rising panic as Lucius smugly informed him that both the minister and Board of Governors had unanimously decreed Narcissa the perfect solution to the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Narcissa, Lucius informed him, was greatly looking forward to this new opportunity. The lady in question said nothing, and simply sat gazing at Fawkes with a blank expression.

Twenty minutes later Dumbledore watched his office door close with a sense of despair. Death Eaters teaching at Hogwarts… how was he going to be able to control this? Snape must remain as a spy; whatever information would Narcissa pass on to her husband?

Sensing his distress, Fawkes flew over to gently land on the arm of his chair. If only Snape wasn’t such an accomplished Occlumens. Voldemort was back, Harry seemed unaware of the danger he was in, and Dumbledore had a headache that never seemed to quite go away. Fifty years ago Dumbledore knew that young Tom Riddle was capable of great acts of evil. Now, just as certainly, Dumbledore feared that Tom Riddle grown into Voldemort would recognize the connection he shared with young Harry; and exploit it. Sighing, Dumbledore was rudely yanked from his train of thoughts when the mirror he used for communication with the Order of the Phoenix started vibrating at an alarming rate. 

Harry, one again, had vanished from the Dursley’s. 

HDHDHD

Harry felt nauseous as he silently followed Narcissa under the relative safety of his invisibility cloak. Having separated with her husband outside the gates of Hogwarts, Narcissa had apparrated straight to Harry. Now, for the second time in his life, he was sneaking into the Ministry of Magic. For the second time in his life he was going into the Department of Mysteries. Images crowded his head, battling for dominance. Sirius falling into a rippling and whispering veil… Ginny, face pale, irritably snapping she was fine seconds before her ankle gave out… Ron, laughing hysterically as the brains flew toward him… Hermione softly saying “oh” before crumpling unconscious… Neville screaming… Bellatrix Lestrange laughing… Sirius falling… the Dementors surrounding innocent Muggle born witches and wizards…Umbridge smiling in perverse pleasure as she condemned others… Moody’s magical staring dully from a door… Sirius falling…oh God, he was going to be sick.

Harry wasn’t aware he was trembling until Narcissa’s hand moved fractionally to the left and she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “Harry? We’re almost there. Are you all right?”

Was he all right. How the Hell could he answer that? Somehow, in agreeing to this crazy plan, Harry had forgotten the utter reality of the situation. Was he to forever be haunted by images and memories that only one other person knew as reality? For the first time since arriving back in time, Harry fervently wished Hermione was with him. He needed her strength; her intelligence – her memories. What was he doing marching into the ministry with Narcissa Malfoy? “I’m ok,” he whispered quietly.

Nodding almost imperceptibly, Narcissa walked out of the elevator and up to the black door that had haunted Harry’s nightmares for many years. Entering briskly, Harry barely heard the whisper of silk as an invisibility cloaked individual hastily moved out of the way. Oh shit… the door was guarded… more questions and suspicions for people to develop. How could he have forgotten Tonks yawning at the kitchen table, or the night he… err… Nagini… bit Arthur? He would never forget the coppery smooth tang of blood in his mouth. 

Harry was abruptly yanked from his musings when a sallow faced man approached and monotonously informed them no one was allowed to enter the Hall of Prophecies. Staring coldly down her nose at the man, Narcissa arrogantly repeated the lie Harry had ordered her to memorize. There was a prophecy about Draco taking place this year, and Narcissa needed to view the date to ensure her son – the Malfoy heir – was adequately prepared. After a tense moment the man conceded – provided he escorts Narcissa to and from the Malfoy family vault. They had family vaults for prophecies? Jeez, how proud were the Malfoy’s if they felt they had to own even one of those? Harry decided the thought really wasn’t worth pursuing as the man slowly opened the correct door. 

The minute they entered the room, Harry gave Narcissa’s waist a squeeze and disappeared. Some things, no matter the age, one never forgets. Even in his twenties Harry had nightmares of torturing…err… of Voldemort torturing… Sirius, at the end of aisle ninety seven. Harry moved as swiftly as he dared, and felt his heart constrict as he wondered if any of the prophecies he and his friends had destroyed were nearly as dangerous as the one now sitting warmly in his palm. Praying he was not preparing the world for another megalomaniacal dictator, Harry resisted looking at the names on other prophecies and waited anxiously by the door until Narcissa and the other man appeared. Careful to stick close as they left, Harry hardly dared to breathe as the elevator climbed back up to the Atrium. Had the man in the invisibility cloak followed them? Was it safe to breathe? Harry’s paranoia was not helped by the fact that the first person he saw as the door reopened was Lucius Malfoy standing arrogantly by the Fountain of Magical Brethren, for all accounts waiting for someone. Harry noted almost hysterically that he had never liked the vapid statue and had felt no qualms over its destruction. 

“Narcissa?” Lucius revealed his surprise through a narrow eyed look. 

“Hello darling,” Narcissa responded silkily. Malfoy’s simply did not do outlandish displays of affection in public. “I was simply checking on dear Draco’s prophecy, to ensure the correct preparation of events.” Knowing full well no such prophecy concerning Draco existed, Lucius’ attention sharpened on his wife. Almost casually, Narcissa leaned forward to smooth invisible wrinkles from her husband’s shoulder, parroting precisely what Harry had instructed in an almost inaudible whisper, “the door was guarded -invisibility cloak.”

Pulling back to smile blankly at Lucius, Narcissa dismissively announced she was off to go shopping and would see him at home. Lucius, looking rather proud of his sneaky wife, leaned in to kiss her cheek in an expression of his gratitude before noticing Prime Minister Fudge walking over. After accepting the correct platitudes over her new teaching position, Narcissa, with Harry in tow, quickly excused herself to Floo to an outlandishly expensive department store before apparrating back to the Dursley’s. 

“Well,” Narcissa eyed him levelly, “were you successful with whatever it is you were looking for?” Narcissa was aware Voldemort was after something in the Department of Mysteries, but had yet to learn precisely what. 

Feeling imminently relieved to no longer be at the ministry, Harry couldn’t stop the relieved smile from breaking across his face as he nodded back to her. 

“Right,” Narcissa nodded once to show her understanding, “I will see you the first of September then.”

Harry gave a wicked grin and a wink. “Give Draco my love,” he said in a falsely innocent voice. 

Narcissa’s eyes lit up with laughter and a small smile appeared on her face, though she made no further comment and turned on the spot, disapparrating with a pop. 

Harry carefully made sure the prophecy was secured before sneaking into the house. Best not be seen by his uncle, as there was no telling what the man would do if he thought he could help someone get rid of Harry for good. Distracted by this though, Harry was therefore unprepared to walk into his bedroom and see his trunk sitting packed and ready to go in the middle of the room. Turning in confusion, Harry saw Lupin, Moody, Tonks, and Kingsly Shacklebolt standing in his room. 

Whoops. Guess two disappearance from his “safe house” was too much. He was off to Grimmauld Place.


	4. A Change of Location

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

DISCLAIMER: Must I repeat it? Let me ask a rhetorical question. If I did own the rights to Harry Potter (which, legally, I am required to point out belong to JK Rowling), would I be glaring at my vapid bubble headed twit of a professor and penning fanfiction... or would I be sunning myself in the Greek Islands? Have a think on that.

WARNING: *quick peek* Yep, Draco and harry are still boys. Go figure. 

I LOVED all the reviews I received thus far! Loved them so much I added this chapter tonight instead of tomorrow.

Kisses!  
Roo

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hermione Granger was insane.

Well, that was the general consensus at least. How else could anyone possibly explain her sudden desperate need to hug everyone whenever she saw them? Ron gave a dopily accepting grin after she seized him in a passionate kiss, only to scowl as she launched herself at Fred and George next. Lupin just smiled in his understanding way and hugged her back, and Sirius took to shape shifting into a dog to knock her over as she entered or exited a room. Rather than upsetting her, Hermione beamed and roared with laugher. Moody was convinced she was possessed and took to glaring at her with his magically spinning eye – he’d never quite forgiven her for sobbing all over him and apologizing for when some Polyjuice experiment or other had gone wrong. Whatever that was about. Most of them put up with Hermione’s new affection with amused tolerance, but when Hermione shrieked and hugged Snape, even Ron feared for her sanity.

Yep, Hermione Granger was insane. Worse, she didn’t care. 

When Harry Potter was dragged scowling into Grimmauld Place, all heads naturally turned to Hermione to gauge her reaction. When she flew across the room and smothered him in a hug, peppering kisses all over his face, nearly everyone cracked up laughing. Only Lupin noticed the way Ron and Ginny stiffened, or the forced joviality of their smiles. Then again, something was different with Harry as well. He was just as crazy as Hermione was, and after hugging and exclaiming over everyone present – even over Tonks whom he had only been introduced to an hour ago – Harry waltzed Hermione around the kitchen in an impromptu happy dance before grabbing Ron and disappearing upstairs. After weeks of Hermione’s newfound insanity, no one was honestly surprised when Harry raced back downstairs, effectively waking up Mrs. Black in the hallway, in order to grab Sirius, Lupin, and the twins into one tighter hug before racing out again. 

Molly Weasley looked utterly lost as she turned to her husband. “Do you know she hasn’t read a book in eight days?” 

Arthur Weasley just shook his head, but it was Moody who answered her. “Seems a little too relieved we’re all alive and well. I think the stress is getting to her.” Thumping his cane on the floor to add to his point, Moody continued, “She won’t be the first one who has her head addled by war. Mark my words. Kids today keep forgetting the need for CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

“Moody, you crazy old bat,” Sirius shook his head at the man in great affection, “they’re just kids. They need to focus on surviving, not trying to save the world!”

“WHAT!!!!!”

All of the assembled adults craned their neck to look up at the ceiling from where the anguished roar had appeared. Far from worrying them, however, this disjointed shout seemed to break an invisible bubble of tension. “Well, there you have it,” Molly said happily, before tying on an apron and heading to the stove. “The kids are back together now, and things will be settling down quick enough. No, no, Tonks… you’ve had a busy day. I’ll fix dinner… really…”

HDHDHD 

Ignoring the shout from Ron, Harry calmly repeated himself. “I am the only one who can kill Voldemort, I need your help eliminating Horcruxes not even Dumbledore is aware of yet, I plan to unite the four houses at school, make alliances with mystical creatures, and I am in love with Draco Malfoy.” Then he waited.

For a few minutes Ron seemed incapable of answering as he tried to assimilate what Harry had so patiently rattled off. Twice. Then, “you’re not secretly in love with Hermione?”

Harry blinked at Ron for a few minutes while Hermione snorted in disgust of Ron focusing on, to her, the least important detail of the whole conversation. “Err… no. I am very much in love with Draco.”

Ron nodded and sat down on the bed next to Hermione. “Right then.” He looked at Harry expectantly. Then he blinked. Then his eyes widened and he opened and closed his mouth very fast, reminding Harry of a bewildered house elf on steroids. Not an appealing combination. “You,” he started. “But, You-Know-Who… Ferret… school… what?”

Taking pity on Ron yet again, Harry nodded to Hermione who obediently pulled out her unregistered wand and set up several privacy spells around the room. Neither one of them knew whether or not their current wands would stand out while in an unplottable magical home, but they didn’t want to take any chances. Once done, Hermione returned to the bed and gripped Ron’s hand tightly. Harry eyed them for a moment, before reaching into his pocket and removing the prophecy. Taking one last deep breath, Harry opened the stopper and let his two best friends hear the entire prophecy.

Never before had Harry truly appreciated the fact that knowing a prophecy and hearing a prophecy straight from Trelawney’s psychotic sounding voice were two substantially different ideals. Even Hermione, who actually remembered the prophecy and had, in fact, already helped hunt Horcruxes, looked rather perturbed. Haltingly, Harry and Hermione told Ron a rather edited version of their life and the events leading up to them returning to their current age. Harry decided he rather liked how thick headed Ron at fifteen was… he seemed to care less about the fact that Harry was in love with Draco, as the fact that Harry was not in love with Hermione. Ok then. 

“So,” Ron finally asked, hand still happily held by Hermione, “what’s the plan?” 

Harry scowled, having to rewrite abruptly all his grandiose plans for summer. No way could Narcissa come to Grimmauld Place, and Harry couldn’t exactly leave undetected. Not that he wanted to – now that he was actually here he planned on sticking close to Sirius for as long as possible. “Well, plans have changed slightly. I was brought here far too early, and now have no way to leave until school starts. In the meantime,” here he traded a darkly significant look with Hermione, “Ron, you can’t mention any of our plans to Dumbledore or the others. Not yet. In fact, I want Hermione to put a spell on you making it unable for you to tell someone – even through Occlumency or Veritaserum.” 

Ron looked horribly confused and a little hurt so Harry continued on as quickly as possible. “Dumbledore won’t be speaking to me or even looking at me much for awhile. I am still rather hurt at the way he treated me. I am not seeking him out until he seeks me out. Hopefully… well, hopefully that won’t be for awhile or he’ll find a way to stop me. I think.” Ron nodded slowly, looking unhappy and still confused, so Harry plowed on quickly, “as for the spell: it’s not that I don’t trust you, I do. You’re my best mate. Always will be. It’s just that people who are skilled Legilimens can break into your mind and painfully” Harry shuddered, thinking of Snape’s lessons, “steal your thoughts. It’s for your protection, really.”

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Harry. “Hermione,” he said, abruptly turning his attention to her, “did you get the…”

“Yep,” she responded with false brightness. “I didn’t put it on once… I remembered…” she paled slightly and stopped talking. Getting off the bed, she disappeared to her and Ginny’s room and returned with a thick white box. Harry didn’t even open it, just nodded his thanks and stuffed the box into the magical purse from his cloak. 

“What’s that?” Ron asked curiously.

“Just a necklace,” Hermione replied in a brittle voice, glaring at the box in remembrance of past anguish. 

Ron looked between Harry and Hermione once, but dropped the subject since he knew there was nothing romantic behind the gesture. In fact, Hermione looked less spirited than she had in awhile. Deciding a change in conversation was in order, Ron stood and stretched. “Ok. Let’s go get some dinner!”

They were laughing as they walking into the kitchen. Laughing and joking until they saw Ginny crying and Lupin looking ill.

“What happened?” Harry demanded desperately. The twins? Sirius? Draco?

Sirius emerged from the shadows and walked towards Ron. Harry felt his stomach drop through his feet when Sirius laid a heavy hand on Ron’s shoulder. “It’s Charlie.”

Charlie? What could have happened to Charlie? He was in Romania, wasn’t he? “He was helping with some business for the Order,” Lupin began carefully, answering all of Harry’s unasked questions. “He was helping out, and somehow was discovered.” Harry felt sick: he was suddenly remembering the whisper of silk as he swept into the Department of Mysteries with Narcissa. “Ron…” Lupin looked anguished as Molly appeared looking tired and sad, “… Ron, we don’t know where he is.” 

Even as Ginny wailed and hurried to her mother, and Hermione threw herself into Ron’s arms, Harry was only vaguely aware of placing a comforting arm around Ron’s shoulders. His mind was spinning. This hadn’t happened earlier. It had been someone else… Sturgis. Sturgis Podmore. But then again, that had been later in the summer. He hadn’t known that Charlie was helping out the Order. And Harry, telling Narcissa to rat out the person in the Invisibility Cloak, had sentenced Charlie to torture. Harry felt sick. Here he stood, consoling the Weasley family, even as the very reason Charlie was missing was because Lucius had somehow discovered the missing prophecy. Did Voldemort know yet? 

As Harry stood there, absorbing the shocked tears and questions, he suddenly felt like the biggest fraud imaginable. How badly had he just screwed up his life?

HDHDHD

Lucius Malfoy was afraid.

Reacting to Narcissa’s hint, Lucius had “wandered” to the Department of Mystery and stunned an empty space. Hearing the crash, as a body toppled over, he swept forward and pulled off an Invisibility Cloak to reveal none other than Charlie Weasley. Placing him under Imperio quickly, Lucius “borrowed” his cloak and forced Charlie to walk into the Department of Mysteries where he discovered something slightly more alarming. The prophesy, concerning his Master and that arrogant Potter, was missing. Not misplaced – Lucius carefully searched several surrounding aisles – missing. He did NOT want to be the one to share that piece of information with the Dark Lord. Not quite knowing what else to do, Lucius ordered Charlie (still under Imperius) to follow him home where he got his third, and equally terrifying, surprise.

Lucius Malfoy hated surprises.

Ducking under the cloak with Charlie on a hunch, Lucius was appalled when Draco stomped past muttering “…stupid Potter with his stupid kisses and stupid smile and stupid eyes and… stupid… just stupid Potter!” Malfoy’s simply do not mutter to themselves. Especially about Potter’s in general. Horribly thrown, Lucius stuck Charlie into the dungeons and went to find his wife. Had his son been cursed? Unable to locate Narcissa, Lucius had returned to the dungeon to find her feeding Charlie and gently questioning him about “Harry dear.” Malfoy’s also do not feed prisoners. They torture them… to extract necessary information, naturally. 

Worse, when Lucius tried explaining this to Narcissa, she actually had the gall to tell him that Harry would win the war, marry Draco, and come live with her at Malfoy Manor. “Only you?” He questioned in amusement.

“Yes,” Narcissa replied haughtily, “unless you get your act together.” When Lucius rightly pointed out that Narcissa could be killed for expressing such traitorous ideals, rather than apologizing, she slapped him soundly across the face. Before telling him to stop messing with their son’s heart and then kissing him good night. Bidding a pleasant stay to Charlie, Narcissa swept from the dungeons with her head held high, muttering about selfish spouses who didn’t care about the fact Harry and Draco were meant to be together. 

Lucius gaped at her back as she walked away. “Malfoy’s do not mutter!” He shouted after her. To his further shock, Narcissa simply bid another goodnight and kept walking. “The Dark Lord is going to punish whoever tells him about the prophecy and my family has gone mad.” Charlie nodded agreeably.

Lucius cruccio’ed him for the Hell of it. 

HDHDHD

In Grimmauld Place, Harry had just finally drifted off to sleep after an emotionally draining evening. It was three in the morning. Therefore, when the shriek ripped across the room, it was only natural for him to fall out of bed in fear.

“You’re in love with WHOM?!”


	5. Nobody Expects A Spanish Inquisition

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

DISCLAIMER: Still own absolutely nothing. I just like to mess with the character's heads a little. Or a lot. Whatever.

WARNING: They take it slow at first, but two fifteen year old boys making it through an entire fanfic without heavy petting, kisses, and sex? Doubtful. 

HDHDHD

 

“Harry James Potter! You get up this instant and tell me what is going on!” Someone soft pressed his glasses into his hand, and Harry at last managed to focus on the apologetic face of Hermione. What the… why was she in his room at three in the morning? Turning his head, Harry’s gaze landed on the pale and furious face of Ginny Weasley. Who had apparently just kicked him, and looked likely to do so again. Ah hell. Why couldn’t the girls just go to bed? What was it with females and needing to talk? Real people talked at reasonable hours of the day. Like noon. Or two in the afternoon. Harry had always thought two was a nice solid sounding number.

Crawling off the floor and resting on the edge of his bed, Harry tried to force the neurons in his brain to focus enough to form cohesive speech. “Gashoniny.” Hmm, obviously not. Resting his head in his hands, Harry was too tired to feel surprised when two cracks rent the air. He knew without lifting his head that Fred and George had joined the party. They were normal – they would make the girls go away. Choosing to disregard how utterly wimpy that thought was, Harry glared in offense when the twins shoved him over and sat down on his bed with him; they were either bored or intrigued and had chosen to side with the females. “Remember how we used to be friends? We should go back to those days. They were good times.” Rather than taking the hint and leaving, the twins just laughed at Harry’s sulky comment. 

Resigning himself to the fact he was neither getting sleep nor coffee, Harry lifted his head and looked around. Ron was now awake. Ish. Propped up between his sister and his girlfriend, he looked as alert as Harry did. Exchanging long suffering looks with Harry, Ron tried to help. “For Christ’s sake Gin, he’s in love with Malfoy. Now all he has to do is promote school unity and get rid of You-Know-Who.” Dropping his head onto Hermione’s shoulder, he seemed to only then become aware of the low strangled sounding noise Ginny was emitting. His head snapped back up to blink at his sister for a moment, before slowly turning to look at Harry. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” Ginny repeated waspishly. “For all accounts and purposes, Harry hates Malfoy. How can Harry have gone from hating the miserable, selfish, evil, rotten, spoiled git, to loving him in three weeks time! When he hasn’t even seen him since school ended!” Ginny’s rant didn’t stop her from noticing the sudden blush on Harry’s face. He truly was a miserable liar. Narrowing her eyes, Ginny suddenly adopted a sickeningly sweet smile. It was rather creepy, actually. “Harry… have you seen Malfoy since school ended?”

The twins, the only ones besides the girls who looked reasonably awake, were following this exchange avidly. “Only once, and we only kissed for a few minutes.” Harry winced the minute he realized what he said. Hadn’t Ginny fancied herself in love with him at this age? The twins whooped with laughter, Ron looked markedly uncomfortable, Hermione grinned, and Ginny opened and closed her mouth rapidly. Harry reflected it was the first time he’d noticed the resemblance between her and her brother. 

Harry felt rather guilty for that thought. Ginny was once one of his best friends. She’d figured out a way for him to talk to Sirius during Umbridge’s reign, she went after Harry into the ministry, helped them win the House Cup, and comforted him after Dumbledore died. He really did owe it to her to be kind right now. However, Harry had no clue how to talk to girls. They didn’t get simple statements. Everything had to have a reason. Damn females; no wonder Harry loved Draco – he was easy. Abruptly yanking his mind away from the unintentional play on words (and subsequent mental images); Harry suggested they go into the kitchen to finish talking. The kitchen had coffee. If he wasn’t getting sleep, he was damn sure getting coffee.

Two and a half hours later Harry was slumped against Ron’s side in a half comatose daze. Ron had already decided he knew enough about Harry’s plans, but instead of retreating to the bedroom had chosen to pass out on the table in a show of support. Harry decided the fact that Ron’s gesture made perfect sense to him did not bode well for his mental state. Hermione was, well, was she petting Ginny? Whatever she was doing involved Ginny’s hair and seemed to be soothing the girl. The twins - Harry knew they were normal - were gleefully compiling a list of ways to prank the other houses into befriending them. Harry didn’t really see how pranking people would lead to friendship, but he had faith in the twins and was deeply grateful the Weasley’s were sticking by him with his half baked scheme. He knew he ought to be slightly alarmed at the fact the Slytherin's prominently revolved around the tricks, but simply couldn’t muster the energy to care right now. Should he tell them about Narcissa teaching at the school? Nah, enough was enough for one night…err… morning.

“Guys,” Harry started blearily, hesitantly meeting everyone’s eye as they looked up. “Are we ok?” The twins nodded affably and returned to their list, Ron snorted in sleep which Harry chose to interpret as consent, Hermione smiled wearily, and Ginny… well, and Ginny looked oddly determined but nodded anyway. Harry felt a powerful surge of relief. 

The door opened and a sleepy Tonks walked in, only to stop dead at the sight of the huddled teens. “Wotcher,” she greeted brightly nonetheless. Making her way over to Harry, she thrust an oddly shaped package into his hands. “Here Harry, bought it for you last night. It seemed awfully important to you yesterday – both times you hugged me you kept babbling about it, so I figured you wanted one.”

Looking down Harry simply blinked for a moment before roaring with laughter. The others looked on with confused smiles, but Hermione cracked up as soon as she saw Harry’s gift as well. Tonks had bought Harry a teddy bear with bright green hair. 

HDHDHD

Lucius Malfoy was really rather distraught. 

He still had not informed his master about the missing prophecy. Knowing full well the punishment he would receive if the knowledge he had came to light, Lucius kept volunteering to guard the door at the ministry in a desperate hope to extract information from the inferior do gooders intent on protecting the prophecy from the Dark Lord. His dungeons now held Charlie Weasley, Sturgis Podmore, Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, and Hestia Jones. Even under Veritaserum and dark curses none of them knew what they were guarding, only alluding to some kind of weapon, and Lucius was ready to kill the whole lot of them and be done with them. 

People really had no appreciation for how difficult it was to support an evil Lord. 

His lovely wife had to choose now to disregard all the careful mannerisms the Malfoy name implied, and decided to play gracious hostess to their guests – prisoners, damn it. On more than one occasion, Lucius arrived home to find his wife calmly sipping tea in the dungeons, while his son asked if Potter had mentioned him at all. What was that about? Charley Weasley seemed greatly amused by Draco; and Hestia and Dedalus already had plans to meet his wife in Hogsmead for brunch one weekend. As if Lucius would release them. They were his prisoners, no matter how good Dedalus’s scone recipe was. 

To top it all off, his close friend Severus Snape was beginning to look at him oddly. Every time Lucius looked at him, visions of the people in his dungeons kept swimming in his head, causing Lucius to blink rapidly to dismiss them. It would never do if Snape somehow figured out what was going on. Why did he keep thinking of them every time Snape gave him such a penetrating look? And now with Snape hinting it would be beneficial for Lucius to be completely honest with him… Ha! As if Lucius was ever completely honest.

He was a loyal Death Eater, after all.

Lucius paced his study anxiously. That was another thing – this pacing. What was with all the nervous gestures lately? Between his wife entertaining the guests – prisoners – and his son asking after Potter, Lucius was never so happy for school to start next week. Oddly enough, he felt as though his wife and son were particularly eager as well. He’d tried questioning Narcissa as well; Lucius winced at the memory. But one was not married into a dark family for a reason. How she managed to block his curse and rebound it on him he would never know. At least she had been nice enough to lift the curse as soon as she remembered the counter spell. Although why it took someone of Narcissa’s power a full five minutes to remember how to lift a simple nerve shattering spell was beyond him. Lucius sighed again, before marching off to the dungeons to once again try and extract some answers.

Only five days until school starts. Thank God.

HDHDHD

“So, Lucius Malfoy is holding them in his dungeons, but they are safe enough and Narcissa gives them tea and scones?”

Snape sighed mentally as he glared around the table. He could appreciate their confusion – this really had been an awkward summer. Between the ministry printing trash about Dumbledore and Potter in the Daily Prophet, the strange closeness of the teenagers and impressive privacy spells erected whenever Potter and his sidekicks gathered, and the missing Order members… Well, learning the Malfoy’s were somehow involved really came as no great surprise. It was the degree of their involvement that put the befuddlement on the surrounding faces. Snape smirked over the thought of Dumbledore’s puppets reliant upon him for this type of information. Unable to resist goading them, alright Sirius, further, Snape responded. “Correct. I will, of course, discover more… but it is rather difficult keeping this information from the Dark Lord.” There! The others looked suitably impressed with his bravery and Sirius looked mutinous. 

“Well, Snivellous…” Sirius started angrily, only to be abruptly cut off when Molly Weasley smacked him upside the back of the head.

“You stop right now!” She glared at him the same way she glared at any of her children making mischief, and felt justified when Sirius flushed and dropped his head. “Severus is being very brave finding out information for us.” Sirius’s head snapped up and he opened his mouth, “and as long as my son,” Sirius flushed again “is being held captive you will just have to be nice. If you are mean to him again Sirius Black, I swear I will make you wish your own mother was alive to torture you instead of me.” Several people shifted uncomfortably at this, a few casting wary glances into the hall, though none raised a single objection.

Snape was just managing to congratulate himself when Molly turned to him and beamed. “Severus my boy, I’ll just make you a nice cup of tea all right? And then you can find a way to tell Charlie and the others we love them and will bring them home soon.” Her boy? Pass on secret messages right under the nose of a Death Eater? Snape nodded curtly, swearing loudly inside his head. That Potter brat better tell him his plan soon. At least at school he could give detentions and take away house points whenever students were stupid enough to hug him or weep on his shoulder. At least at Hogwarts he could be cold and in charge. At school, none of the children were insipid enough to smile at him, or invite him to birthday celebrations, or cheerfully wish him happy sneaking. 

Only five days until school starts. Thank God.

HDHDHD

Even with the pleasure of being around Sirius and the others, Harry was never so grateful to get back to school. As he tuned out Molly and Arthur’s tearful good-bye’s and orders of good behavior, Harry scanned the crowds. Where… There he was. Harry felt a rush of giddy relief as a familiar shock of blond hair came into view. Was Draco looking for someone too? Harry couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face as familiar grey eyes locked onto him – and stopped. Draco scowled threateningly at him; Harry winked and licked his lips. Instantly turning pink, Draco sharply turned away from his suspicious looking father and boarded the train without a backwards glance. Smiling benevolently at Lucius, Harry turned back to his family in an infinitely better frame of mind. 

Heavy paws on his shoulder made him blink, and suddenly Harry had to fight tears as he remembered what happened last time Sirius was left alone at Grimmauld Place. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, clutching the dog tightly to his chest for a moment. “I have a plan. You’ll be joining me at Hogwarts soon enough.” The dog’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Harry simply smiled sadly and pushed him away. “Just don’t do anything stupid until I send you a sign, ok?” 

A few more hugs, a few sloppy and disgusting kisses, and the kids were safely ensconced on the train. For a fleeting moment, Harry panicked as Hermione and Ron walked away – he had forgotten about them sitting in the Prefects carriage – but then Ginny and Neville shepherded him into another compartment. The minute Harry looked into large protuberant eyes, he felt his cheer returned. 

It was time to incorporate Luna Lovegood into the plan.


	6. Happiness Is Overrated

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

Narcissa Malfoy was greeted with suspicion and pleasure – from both students and faculty. Students with Death Eater parents, and Harry Potter’s closest friends, smirked and viewed her acceptance into Hogwarts as a sign of things to come. Students with lighter affiliations, of wounds from the first war, looked to Harry in desperation and worry. The Daily Prophet was vehement in their denial of Voldemort’s return… surely Harry and Dumbledore had to be lying… no one would willingly put the wife of a “suspected” Death Eater into school. 

Would they?

Then again, something was wrong between Dumbledore and Harry. During meals, for once it was Dumbledore casting long speculative looks at Harry, only to look away whenever Harry turned his head towards the teachers table. Neither one seemed quite willing to catch the others eye. Even worse, during meals Snape was not openly glaring at Harry anymore. When he wasn’t staring silently at his plate, or respectfully catering to Narcissa, he would send narrow eyed probing looks towards the Gryffindor table. No one was particularly surprised when Harry wound up losing thirty points and earning detention the first day in Potions class. Not surprised, no, but relieved at this sign of normalcy. 

Only Narcissa appeared blithely unaware of the tensions and whispers swirling around the school. She was gracious and aloof during meals, and didn’t show favoritism during lessons – much to the Slytherins disgust. On her first day as a teacher, she held a review lesson that left the majority of her students limping out after class. Well, everyone except Potter and Granger. Somehow, though, only Pansy Parkinson found that rather telling. 

HDHDHD

Harry was nervous.

Hermione and Ron had planned and discussed this next course of action with him, but Harry wasn’t sure he could pull off the desired result. True, if someone wanted to get close to Harry, it was understood that his friends came with him. All that crap about The Golden Trio… well, it wasn’t complete bunk. That being said, it was only logical that Harry start his plan of school unity by approaching Blaise Zabini. Really, it wouldn’t be that bad… I mean, everyone knew Harry was crap at potions. It was perfectly logical to be asking a classmate for assistance on an assignment. Hopefully, the fact that Harry was glued to the hip of the Gryffindor Dictionary would not be too obvious. Staring across the library, Harry mentally reviewed his plan and walked over. If only Blaise wasn’t, even now, sitting companionably next to Draco. As he watched, Blaise made a comment and nudged Draco’s shoulder. Draco looked over at his friend and laughed in response.

The bastard. 

Harry caught the quick glance Draco shot in his direction, and the way his eyes widened as Harry approached, before gray eyes suddenly became intent on the parchment on front of him. “Hello,” Harry greeted nervously. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco stiffen and raise his head with a sneer, but Harry ignored him – keeping his face firmly turned toward Blaise Zabini even as he inwardly cheered at getting a reaction from Draco. “Blaise? Can I talk to you for a minute?” Blaise frowned up at Harry, not noticing how Draco’s eyes narrowed. Casting a suspicious glance between the two of them, Draco looked less than happy when Blaise consented and walked back to Harry’s table with him.

Explaining his problem in understanding both the difference between Belladonna and Snapdragon, and why an infusion of Wormwood could be either helpful or debilitating to the potion, Harry relaxed when Blaise, still looking suspicious, sat down next to Harry and pulled his Potions book toward himself. The two of them were quickly immersed in the assignment, with Harry occasionally distracted by the eyes boring into the side of his skull. Harry gave up trying not to smile at Draco’s reaction, especially when he noticed the increasingly uncomfortable shifting his favorite blond was doing, and the way Draco’s friends were glancing at him while he muttered under his breath. Since when did Malfoy’s mutter? When the bell chimed, signaling the start of lunch, Blaise waived his friends away and said he’d meet them in the Great Hall. Harry had to bite his lip firmly to suppress a shout of glee when Draco stormed away muttering even more profusely.

By the time Blaise and Harry wandered into the Great Hall, halfway through lunch, Harry not only actually understood a Potions assignment – a bizarre occurrence in itself – but he and Blaise were on a first name basis as well. Whatever guilt Harry initially felt over manipulating the Slytherin was squashed by the joy of actually liking one of Draco’s friends. The Zabini family had suffered greatly after the end of the war, and Blaise had never come around to visit Draco if Harry was home. Harry understood – he carried around his own shadows and demons. Still, he relished this opportunity to correct some of the grief… even if Blaise had no idea of any grief yet. 

Feeling particularly magnanimous, Harry slung a companionable arm around Blaise’s shoulders as they walked into lunch, before parting with a cheerful “See ya,” from both boys. Ignoring the whispers that broke out, Harry sauntered over to the Gryffindor table. He was happily immersed in lunch when a loud “… not your property!” was heard from the Slytherin table. Looking up, Harry saw Draco and Blaise glaring daggers at each other before angrily stabbing food on their plates and continuing to eat. Waiting patiently, Harry stared at Draco until the unhappy boy raised his head to sneak a look at Harry. Staring at Draco deliberately, Harry then cast his eyes to Blaise, before looking back at Draco and shaking his head slightly. He then smirked suggestively at the blond, while raising his eyebrow. Draco looked rather flustered at the exchange, but appeared slightly mollified before looking away. Returning to his meal, Harry snuck a few more glances and was relieved when Draco appeared to apologize to Blaise. He did not, however, notice the suspicious looks Pansy Parkinson was directing his way.

September really was a beautiful month. 

HDHDHD

He was furious.

Coldly, utterly, completely furious. The anger pumped through his system, beating a violent tattoo in his chest, before settling over him like a blanket. His companions shifted nervously, though none dared raise their head from staring at the floor. Glancing around in disgust, he turned his eyes on the figure bending in supplication before him. “After all this time, you are telling me Dumbledore” he spat the name “managed to gain the one tool I asked my loyal followers to obtain?” The figure twitched on the ground, but made no comment. “How long have you known this?”

“My Lord,” the figure rasped painfully, keeping his head lowered deferentially, “I discovered only yesterday there were people guarding the door under guise of an Invisibility Cloak. I stunned and immobilized the miscreant, before entering the Hall of Prophecy’s.” The man abruptly stopped, radiating fear and unease.

Harry gazed down at the bent figure, hand twitching lightly on his wand. The figure winced and arched back slightly, but made no protest. Very good. “And what,” he demanded silkily, “did you discover?”

Hesitating only briefly, “It… it’s gone, my Lord. I searched the surrounding areas, but…”

Harry absorbed this information in silence, thinking furiously. If Dumbledore knew… but no, he had been interrupted during the telling of the original prophecy. Right? Interrupted by… Abruptly turning away from the trembling form before him, Harry turned to gaze into glittering black orbs. “Find out how much Dumbledore knows.”

His follower instantly bowed his head respectfully, “Yes, my Lord.”

Harry placed his hand firmly on his Death Eater’s shoulder, just enough to cause pain; although this, his most loyal follower, made no move or sign of protest. “Do not fail me.”

“No, my Lord.”

Dismissing those gathered with a wave, Harry went to search for Nagini. His beloved was getting hungry; soon… soon she would be fed a rich dessert.

HDHDHD

Harry woke screaming – choking on his own spittle. The pain in his head was violent, made more so by Harry’s inability to block it after not having felt this agony in the last two years of memory. He was vaguely aware of Ron’s frantic scrambling of hands, someone whimpering and swearing, before he rolled over and vomited over the edge of his bed. 

“Should I get help? I should get help.” The voice sounded scared but determined, and Harry forced himself to focus.

“No,” he said weakly. Scrambling for his glasses, Harry clutched his scar desperately as he looked around. Ron was gripping him firmly by his shoulders; Neville was standing nearby looking terrified and awkwardly holding a glass of water, while Dean and Seamus huddled together on the opposite side of his bed – clearly torn between wanting to help and fearing for Harry’s sanity. Harry smiled bitterly at that, it still hurt that Seamus was so suspicious of his actions. “No, I’m ok. Just ate something that disagreed with me at dinner.” Giving Ron a darkly significant look, Harry quickly went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Returning to bed, he noticed someone had cleaned up his mess and dried the sweat from his sheets. It was a long time before Harry fell into a restless sleep.

All the next day Harry was distracted. Voldemort knew the prophecy was missing. Voldemort knew, Voldemort knew. Harry had not felt fear like this in a long time, and he really had not missed it. He barely glanced up from his plate at breakfast – ignoring the worried eyes gazing at him from multiple tables. He barely said a word in class; actually barely registering he was even in class – much to Hermione’s disgust and frustration. Harry wanted to point out that it really didn’t matter if she took notes or not, as she already knew all this information to begin with, but he figured insulting his note taker was not the smartest option. Voldemort knew, Voldemort knew. What would he do now?

Having promised to talk to his friends after dinner, Harry was slightly irritated when someone dropped into the chair next to him in the secluded corner of the library. Scowling, Harry looked up, only to freeze as he took in the blond head carefully angled away from him. He stared, unable to move or speak, as images of Draco’s father kneeling before him, twitching silently, flashed through his mind. The horror of this situation was slightly overshadowed by the strong swell of comfort and security radiating off his love, sitting so close to him.

Carefully, Draco finished unpacking his book bag and arranging his work material before turning to look at Harry. “You haven’t looked at me once today – even in class. You also barely ate anything at breakfast.” Draco didn’t ask what was wrong, and Harry didn’t tell him. He simply leaned forward and pressed his face into Draco’s neck, letting the tears fall. Harry felt weak, ashamed, and dirty. Knowing already he was a Horcrux, he felt like there was a disease building under his skin, crawling and itching inside of him. The feeling of relief that arose when Draco wrapped his arms around him was indescribable. 

They stayed that way for several minutes, before Harry pulled away and pretended to concentrate on his book and Draco began writing out his Transfiguration assignment. They chatted about light, inconsequential topics. Neither boy commented on the fact that Harry rested his hand on Draco’s thigh, or that Draco had his arm firmly wrapped around Harry’s waist. 

They skipped lunch to study. Still tucked away in their corner of the library. 

HDHDHD

Lucius Malfoy dragged his aching body into Malfoy Manor before summoning a house elf. Hestia Jones did not say a word about her abrupt collection from the dungeons. Simply accepted Lucius’ wand and began casting healing spells. After dismissing her and telling the house elf to prepare whatever his guests wanted for dinner, Lucius walked with only a small grimace to his private chambers. Planning on nothing more than a long soak in hot water, Lucius felt his blood freeze as he took in the figure shrouded in shadows standing before him.

“You and I both know you learned about the prophecy at the beginning of summer. You have been hiding information from the Dark Lord, harboring traitors, and practicing a level of deception for which you are ill equipped. We need to talk.”

Lucius sighed inwardly, even as he nodded. Today was shaping up to be a pretty bad day. Somehow, he knew it was connected to his wife and that blasted Potter.


	7. Let Me See Your One Two Step

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


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DISCLAIMER: Well, we all know Rowling owns everything. I own absolutely nothing and never will. Need proof? I would have Harry and Draco hook up by the end of the third book, Snape would be allowed a happier existance, and that epilogue... I would never write that. Please don't sue me, as I seriously have no money.

WARNING: I love Harry and Draco together. In case anyone missed the memo, they are both boys. I know, shocking. Consider yourself warned. 

HDHDHD

Were anyone to ask, Harry would admit without a second’s hesitation that he had no idea what in the hell he was doing. 

Fortunately or not, Harry was not asked; as all eyes at breakfast were glued to Hermione as she entered the hall laughing like a hyena with tears streaming down her face. That, in itself, was no big deal, but the fact that she, followed by Ron, headed straight to the Slytherin table and sat down drew gazes across the board. Half the Slytherin table smirked; knowing the arrival of Harry’s friends indicated Draco had won the bet, while the rest of the table looked around with bewilderment and annoyance. Of the teachers, only Narcissa looked unsurprised… and rather expectant, truth be told. 

“He won?” Blaise asked incredulously. “How the Hell could Draco have won? Harry totally had this one in the bag!”

At that Ron looked sheepish. “Ah well, I figured the Slytherins could use a moral boost. I kinda helped Draco win.”

Goyle looked at Ron in utter shock. “You deliberately threw a bet involving your best friend?”

As Ron nodded and Hermione howled with laughter, Millicent Bulstrode looked at Ron in admiration. “Very sneaky, Weasley. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

When the doors to the Great Hall opened, every eye turned to watch Draco Malfoy saunter in with a smug smile on his face. Ignoring the curious stares, he calmly sat down at his table and began dishing up his plate. The rest of the school barely had time to exchange confused glances when the doors were dramatically thrown open yet again, and Pansy Parkinson, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood walked in together. 

Seizing the moment, Pansy tossed her head and announced, “ladies and gentlemen! Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had a bet going. The details of which,” here she leered suggestively at the crowd, “shall be kept a secret. However,” Pansy had to raise her voice over the assembled groaning, even as the girls behind her began giggling maniacally. “However,” she continued, “the rules of the bet clearly state that the loser, for one entire school day, must promote the winners house pride! Without further ado, may I present to you… Mr. Harry Potter!”

Face an unflattering shade of red, Harry entered the hall and froze at all the eyes trained on him. Wearing a pair of Draco’s pants, some random Slytherins boots, and a green silk shirt, Harry stood in the doorway decked out head to toe in his rivals school colors… right down to the Slytherin insignia on his cloak. As if this weren’t shocking enough, Pansy had taken the liberty of cutting and styling Harry’s hair for this momentous occasion. Offering a sheepish smile, Harry made a beeline for the Slytherin table and sat down next to Draco, trying to hide in the other boys shoulder. Laughing, Harry’s band of merry dressmakers followed and plopped down with him.

Luna settled herself between Crabbe and Goyle (Draco having accidentally not seen the open seat he had sat in everyday for five years. Accidents happen…), Ginny tossed her head and flopped down next to Blaise, while Pansy sat on Harry’s other side with a self satisfied smirk. Dragging his eyes away from Ginny’s sparkling hair, Blaise turned to Harry and asked curiously, “what was the bet, anyway?”

At his words all the Gryffindors roared with laughter and Draco promptly choked on his pumpkin juice. Grinning, Ron passed the plate of chicken to Millicent. “Oh, just a little exercise in house unity…” Harry, if possible, blushed all the harder. 

Sighing dreamily, Luna rested her head on Crabbe’s shoulder, for all the world as it she had forgotten how to hold it up properly. “It was all because of the magical properties contained in the horn of a Crumple Horned Snorlack, you know.” Hermione spluttered indelicately into her napkin, Ginny snickered, and the rest of the Slytherins stared at Luna in shocked fascination. “Daddy says…”

Not really caring what Luna’s father said, Harry leaned fractionally closer to Draco and lowered his head to whisper in his ear. “Well, what do you think of me as a Slytherin?” He did not miss Draco’s shudder as Harry’s breath ghosted his neck. He nearly, however, missed Draco’s whispered response.

“I think you look dangerous.”

If the student body thought having four Gryffindor’s and a Ravenclaw sitting at the Slytherin table for breakfast was odd, the fact the Harry Potter dropped nimbly into a vacant seat at the Hufflepuff table for lunch brought about many dubious squeaks. When Draco, Blaise, Neville, Ginny, Luna, and oddly enough, Ernie Macmillan joined them, several Hufflepuffs looked as though they had swallowed one of the Weasley twins Fainting pills. Dinner that night – Harry, Draco, and the Weasley twins – sitting at the Ravenclaw table, Draco couldn’t resist and leaned over to nuzzle Harry’s neck. Absorbing his quick shiver with a smile, Draco leaned closer and lightly bit Harry’s earlobe before asking, “Why, again, are we playing musical chairs?”

Harry was sweating lightly by this point, and looked over at a perfectly composed Draco with slight resentment for a minute before answering. “Look around,” he murmured. By now the school was buzzing; over Harry and Draco sitting side-by-side, Blaise sitting with Ginny at the Gryffindor table, Hermione sitting with first year Hufflepuffs and patiently instructing them in spell work. There were so many students out of house order it was rather confusing. Harry smiled at Draco and leaned in to talk to him further, when a sudden whooshing noise had him looking up at Hedwig. Pulling off a green envelope, Harry flicked the smallest of glances at it before shoving it in his robe pocket. “Got to go, love, thanks for dinner.” Dropping a small kiss on Draco’s suspicious looking mouth, Harry got up and swiftly left the dining room.

This time, Pansy wasn’t the only one who noticed Ron and Hermione swiftly get up and follow him out. 

HDHDHD

Politics are a lot like poker. You study your opponents, note any patterns or gestures that can be construed as weaknesses, and place your bet. Sometimes, you have to play the board a little… coaxing the cards or dice to sing to you; lend you their magic. Empty threats and promises are made, emotions are both heightened and viciously controlled, and the thrill of the play is underlined with the spice of desperation.

And when the stakes are high and you bet against the house - it’s all or nothing.

As a Malfoy, Lucius considered himself a master player. However, walking into his bedroom after a night of torture and looking into the face of a coldly angry Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius understood he was nothing more than an apprentice. In two sentences, she had ripped him apart, gutted him, and sewn him back together. Never had he loved her more. Never had he resented her more. Never had she made him more proud. 

In the week and a half since Narcissa’s late night visit, Lucius had lost copious amounts of sleep. At first amused by his wife’s orders, Lucius ran through the five stages of denial so fast one would almost never believe opposition had ever been presented. Narcissa had spoken, Lucius had listened, and his wife had won. She didn’t threaten him. She simply explained that Harry was going to win either way he examined the situation. One way would allow Lucius to live as well, while the other would kill him and her son. Would he – could he – willingly inflict that amount of anguish upon her? He couldn’t, and she knew it.

Which is why, on this dark and cold night in late September, Lucius was stationed outside the gates of Hogwarts with Charlie Weasley, waiting for the Golden Trio to arrive. He’d had no intention of bringing Charlie with him, but as she kissed him goodbye Narcissa had quietly mentioned how tired the youngest Weasley’s were looking. Stress interfering with their sleep patterns, most likely. Shit, he was already allowing them use of Malfoy Manor; why not invite one along for negotiations? Though he still maintained he would not release them. They were, after all, his guests – prisoners!

A scuffling noise brought him back to the present, and he looked over to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione looking warily about. Before he could throw off a few hexes, simply to test their reflexes, naturally, Charlie yanked off the cloak and raced towards his brother. Noting the exuberant greeting, Lucius thought disgustedly that obviously the Weasley’s had never heard of decorum. Although Lucius was hard pressed to prevent a smirk as he looked into the startled eyes of the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. 

“Yes, Potter,” he drawled, “I will be your escort to tonight’s negotiation.” At the trio’s continued silence, Lucius lifted an eyebrow. “Frightened, perhaps, of spending time alone with a Malfoy?” Just when Lucius thought the brat was smart enough to fear a Malfoy, the little twerp had the audacity to sneer at him.

“Oh no, sir… I rather enjoy spending time alone with – certain – Malfoy’s.” Harry winked. “I find him... err… some Malfoy’s… quite enjoyable, in fact.”

Hmm… how well could Potter possibly know his son through school? Why were Charlie and the little sidekicks snickering? Refusing to dwell on the matter, Lucius ordered them all to stand together, and swiftly apparrated them away. 

HDHDHD

The forest was like nothing he had ever seen before, Harry reflected absently, as he had to fight the urge to caress the shiny leaves surrounding him. He had never seen leaves that were so silver before. It was like suddenly drowning in a pool the exact color as Draco’s eyes… Horrified at how sappy that thought was, Harry immediately suppressed it and went to draw out his wand when he noticed Lucius and Charlie standing with palms held flat up to the sky. Sharing an uncertain glance with Hermione and Ron, Harry mimicked the gesture. 

He barely had a moment to think when a gossamer silver thread shot out and wrapped around his wrists. As if pulled by a string, Harry found himself arcing across the ground and directly into the path of a tree. Closing his eyes and preparing for a sickening crunch, Harry was only slightly relieved when he soared through the tree, instead of into it. Judging by the startled gasps around him, everyone had made it safely. Harry knew he really should care about his surroundings, it could be a trap after all, but he could not seem to tear his eyes away from the couple in front of him. They were the most beautiful people he had ever seen in his life. Were Harry not a wizard, and surrounded by all things magical, he would swear on a stack of Bibles the people in front of him could not possible exist out of the Fantasy section in a library. 

The woman was standing perfectly straight, and gazing at them with an unreadable expression. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back in thick, impossibly red curls. Stranded throughout, were shiny threads reminiscent of spun gold. The way they caught in the light, Harry would swear they actually were made of gold. Slim, with impossibly green eyes, she wore a simple purple gown that flowed over her arms and hips. Silver runes – Harry felt he really should notice these – were embroidered on her skirt. Some kind of diamond… The man to her right was equally imposing. Tall and proud, his pale hair shone like snow caught in the sunlight. It seemed to blaze around his shoulders. He wore a silver and white embroidered tunic with matching trousers, similar ruins marching along the cuffs. Harry absently hoped Hermione was able to pay attention, as he himself could not get past those deep blue eyes. Wait… they were speaking now.

“Good evening,” the woman’s voice was rich and smooth. Harry felt himself shiver in response, and knew from the stilted breathing around him that he wasn’t the only one affected. “We thank you for requesting a meeting, and as such bid you warm welcome to the Realm of the Veela.”

Veela? Holy crap… no wonder Harry felt drunk and happy. It was a wonder he wasn’t trying to do something impressive like Charlie… who was currently trying to wind dance… or maybe he was having a seizure? As thought reading his thoughts – could they? – The man laughed gently, and gestured to one of his guards to bring a steaming beverage to Charlie. “Only those,” he purred out in a voice like heavy cream – Harry had to fight the urge to run up and lick the man – “who currently do not experience love are affected to the degree of your Mr. Weasley here. Those more… settled… only experience the happiness our presence generates.” Oh. So because he loved Draco, he didn’t want the individuals in front of him to know he was the Savior of the World. Harry briefly resented Draco for that. 

Following obediently as the two turned and gestured, Harry and the others entered a courtyard resplendent with late blooming flowers. Harry wasn’t quite sure what to expect from the Veela, and it was with genuine hesitancy that he separated from the others and approached the raised dais where they stood. The Veela woman, Morgana, did not say a word, however. She simply placed both hands on the side of Harry’s head and gazed into his eyes. Harry had no idea of how long he stared at her, his world existed entirely of glittering green orbs… sucking him in, stretching out his soul, filling him with a liquid warmth that seemed to alter the very cells in his body. When she pulled away, Harry swayed slightly and felt apprehension lick at his conscience. 

Morgana looked paler than before, if possible, and gestured to a table and chairs he had not yet noticed. They were made from trees, and simply seemed an extension of the delicate Birch trees clustered together. It was only upon closer inspection he could even make out the shapes of chairs. That, and the fact the others had already been seated while Morgana examined Harry. Flushing slightly, he hurried forward to join the others. Morgana waited until someone had brought them all water, tasting so fresh and sweet they had to consciously remind themselves not to gulp it down and beg for more, before looking at Harry again. In a carefully bland tone of voice, Morgana began. “To mess with time is a delicate business.”

Harry felt his throat constrict. “Yes.”

“To deliberately slap the God’s of Fate is either exceptionally foolish or extremely valiant.”

“Yes.”

“You are aware, the payment they demand as retribution may be painful. Harsh, but just.”

To his utter shame, Harry felt tears fill his eyes. Still he answered. “Yes.”

Morgana smiled at Harry more gently than anyone had ever smiled at him in his life. When she spoke again, her lips did not move, though her voice echoed in his head. “Yet you still feel you will be victorious.”

Harry desperately wanted to tell her yes. He wanted to tell her he knew he would win because he had a power the Dark Lord knew not. But he couldn’t. Too much was different this time around. What if initiating his relationship with Draco and bringing Lucius to his side meant giving up Teddy Lupin’s existence? What if sparing Arthur’s attack from Nagini meant, ultimately, sacrificing his own life? Harry already knew he was destined to die – he had to rid himself of the Horcrux inside. However, what if that meant that he had to sacrifice himself for the wizarding world in general? In a small corner of his brain, he could hear Hermione saying the potential good far outweighs the bad. But he could also hear Narcissa shouting something against the rush of wind before the purple light claimed him. And he had seen an archway instead of a doorway when he arose from the original blackness – symbolism, perhaps? Would the fates demand his life in exchange for all the others? Harry said the only thing he could. 

“The potential good far outweighs any lingering doubts.” 

Morgana looked at him, a glimmer of respect and sadness lingering in her eyes. Never taking her eyes off Harry, she reached out and clasped her mates hand. “How may we be of service, young Mr. Potter?”

Harry faltered. He desperately wanted to maintain eye contact, but could not prevent himself from turning around and searching for Hermione. Her brown eyes held him, strengthened him, and gave him the courage to ask the impossible. 

“I want you to relieve the Dementors from Azkaban, and fight with me against Voldemort.”

HDHDHD

Draco Malfoy was not a patient person. 

Raised at the hip of the Dark Lord’s right hand man, with a Death Eater for a Godfather, Draco learned at a very early age that a cold tone of voice, an icy look, and the threat of physical and mental anguish were often the most effective tools of communication. Therefore, when someone he loved… err… had strong feelings for… walked away from him in the middle of dinner, without explanation, you can damn well bet Draco was going to demand an answer. Or blood. Maybe a pound of flesh.

The fact that Pansy and Blaise decided to follow him to Gryffindor tower – well, they simply provided him with pawns to play with. Potter, Harry, never was good at strategy. 

“Blaise, knock.” He ordered.

Recognizing it wasn’t a request, Blaise walked up to the atrocious picture of the woman in the garish pink dress and offered a flirtatiously cocky grin. “My dear lady,” he began smoothly, ignoring Pansy’s snort of laughter. “Would a certain red-headed temptress reside within?”

The Fat Lady giggled at his manners, and fluttered her lashes, “Indeed, kind sir. Wait a moment and I shall check.” She paused to glance over her shoulder, and Blaise immediately sent her a saucy wink. One last giggle and she vanished. They didn’t have to wait long until the portrait was pushed aside and Ginny stood there blinking at them in confusion. The minute she saw Blaise she turned a fetching shade of red and invited them inside.

To say the Gryffindors were startled to see Slytherins in their common room would be the understatement of the year. Pansy engaged in a game of Exploding Snap with Neville, Ginny and Blaise played chess, and Draco sat calmly in a chair ignoring the giggling twits around him and watched the portrait hole. Three hours later, when the trio returned looking dazed and euphoric, Draco was coldly furious. 

It took one look at him for Harry to stop smiling.


	8. Of Pleasure And Pain

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

DISCLAIMER: I own absolutely nothing. Never have, never will.

WARNING: Harry and Draco pairing. Don't like, don't read.

ALSO - I am so so happy to hear that people like my story and get my sense of humor! It makes me giddy to read people's responses. 

Yes, the angst is going to continue building. Sorry, but I tried to keep all characters as much in character as possible. Seriously, ever notice how much melodrama Harry generates??

I apologize for any confusion received from the last chapter. Please bear in mind that time continues to pass between each chapter. I know where this story is headed, so it works for me. However, I took your reviews to heart and adjusted my story slightly, so there should not be any more confusion presented unless I want you to be confused *wink*

Kisses!  
Roo

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus Snape would by no means consider himself a patient or kind man. He refused to recognize the amount of sacrifice, mental and tangible, required to keep Harry Potter safe. No, he wasn’t being self-less, he was following Dumbledore’s orders. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that the brat had Lily’s eyes. Therefore, when Harry suddenly begins cavorting around Malfoy Manor and whispering of secrets, begging Snape with his eyes to protect him, what else could Snape do but obey? Unable to speak with Harry at Grimmauld Place, Snape had to settle himself for throwing the boy into detention the first day of school trying to get answers.

Who told the boy about Legilimency?

Harry had been very careful in his interactions, almost as though he knew Snape was able to get past the awesome power of his eyes in order to pluck the secrets form his head. Before leaving, however, he had stopped by the door and turned back to Snape with an unusually sober expression on his face. “I will need,” he said carefully, “two things.” Snape arched a brow at this but said nothing. “First, a double patch of Polyjuice Potion. Second, your promise to take in a houseguest, no matter who I decide. Do this for me and I will trust you with everything.” Then he had left.

Severus Snape also did not consider himself easily manipulated. He had absolutely no intention of ever allowing someone to invade upon his private chambers. He simply did not cohabit well with others. However, after completing the Polyjuice Potion – strictly out of a sense of morbid curiosity, of course – and slipping it to Harry, he was terribly thrown when Pansy Parkinson had knocked on his office door one night, slipped inside, handed him a letter, and simply stated, “from Harry. With thanks for the potion.” 

He stared at the letter suspiciously for a moment, before opening it to see the back of a picture. Obviously, he had been given a copy of some picture or another, reprinted here at Hogwarts. Maybe by that Creevey brat? He was into photography. Wondering why Harry thought a picture would be sufficient thanks; Snape turned it over… and blanched. How had Harry known? There was Lily, looking young and vibrant, laughing while a baby flew around on a broom roaring with laughter followed by legs. He didn’t care about the legs; he didn’t care about the baby. He simply sat there for hours drinking in the sight of Lily. Young. Alive. More beautiful and vibrant than his memories provided.

And Severus Snape – mean, impatient, and master of manipulation – knew he would be getting a roommate. 

HDHDHD

Dumbledore was afraid. 

He was afraid of the terror and manipulation Voldemort was a master of creating, afraid of the fact Harry may die, and, lastly, he was afraid Harry was no longer acting under his own free will. He would not go so far as to say possession, but he had watched Harry more closely than even Harry knew since the day Dumbledore had placed him on the Dursley’s doorstep. He knew what made Harry laugh, cry, happy, sad. Granted, he hadn’t known about living in a cupboard under the stairs, he didn’t know about the ability to talk to snakes, and didn’t know about Moody as a death eater; but he knew the small unimportant details – just like friends and family should. And as much as he loved Harry, Dumbledore knew he was different this year. And he was afraid. 

He had tried talking to Miss Granger about the matter, but even she was different. Smiling kindly, she said, “Sir, Harry understands why you are not interacting with him this year. He has his reasons for not seeking you out. When you are ready to look at him, ready to speak to him, and ready to trust him and tell him what you know and suspect… he’ll listen. And then he’ll talk to you. Until then,” she shrugged dismissively and turned to leave. Hesitating before leaving, Hermione turned back to smile at him sadly, “he loves you, you know? We all do.”

Still… disappearing from his family’s home, actively seeking out the wife of a Death Eater after the events of last year, suspicious letters, and leaving school grounds… what was he to think? Harry was up to something, and somehow Narcissa Malfoy and Severus Snape were involved. So much was at risk should Harry fail in his task. Did Harry even know about the prophecy? Somehow it had managed to vanish from the ministry, yet he didn’t know if Voldemort had it, or if one of his loyal followers had shattered it in order to hear. Snape claimed Voldemort had never heard it, but was he still trustworthy? 

There were too many questions. And Dumbledore was afraid of some of the answers. A slight vibration drew his attention, and the anxious face of Molly Weasley stared up at him from the two way mirror the Order used.

“Sir? Sirius Black is missing.”

HDHDHD

Fall always was her favorite season. 

The way the wind felt on her face, how the fairies scampered about in the leaves, watching Nifflers burrow into Holly. So much hibernation and rebirth took place in this season, the very air hummed with magic. Well, if you were smart enough to listen. And she was.

Skipping dreamily, humming absently, Luna Lovegood practically danced whenever she moved. It was, after all, the only way to attract the Elvin magic to one’s person. She found life was so much happier when in tune with other magical creatures. She had come home for the weekend to talk to her father about Harry’s article. Daddy was reluctant, and rightly so. There had been two sightings of a Crumple Horned Snorlack recently – he was rather anxious not to waste valuable printing space on insubstantial stories concerning Harry Potter and Voldemort. He was worried no one would care enough to read about it. But Luna wasn’t a Ravenclaw for nothing. She could talk a Thestral into becoming a vegetarian if she wanted it badly enough. And right now, all she wanted was to help her friends out.

Friends. Luna tried the word out on her tongue, laughing at the tickle in her throat and the burst of warmth in her heart. Still laughing, she turned to look at the large dog regarding her with an odd expression. Dropping down on one knee, Luna flung her arms around the dog. “I have friends you know. Better friends than the Elves and Fairies even.” The dog shifted slightly. “Although,” here Luna sounded thoughtful, “I don’t think any of them but Harry is smart enough to be wary of the Flea Bitten Muffler hiding in flowers. All the others will try to smell the flowers without noticing them first. Maybe Hermione too.” The dog looked like it was trying to back away slowly… must be cold, poor thing. 

Standing gracefully, like a ballerina shifting position, Luna beckoned to the dog, “Come along Padfoot, Daddy will worry if I’m not back soon.” The dog seemed frozen to the spot in shock, making Luna laugh again. “Don’t worry; I am heading back to school today. When Harry told you to meet me here, he knew I would recognize you. I can see your soul, you know.” The dog still seemed slightly wary, but amused, and wagged its tail before obediently following her to the odd looking house. 

An hour later, Luna skipped merrily through the halls of Hogwarts, reacquainting herself with the layers of magic swirling around. She ignored the jeers from the Slytherin with the dark soul, twinkled a smile at the frightened Hufflepuff radiating with a pale gold light, and began humming once she reached the dungeons. Knocking, Luna stroked the head of the lightly growling dog before thrusting the leash she had magicked into the startled hands of Professor Snape. “Your new roommate sir,” she bubbled happily. Ignoring the black look on her teachers face, Luna dropped down to hug the dog again. “Remember to check for Muffler’s before smelling the flowers, ok?” 

Dancing lightly away, Luna was delighted to run into Draco Malfoy. Slipping her arm through his, ignoring his start of surprise and wary expression, she rested her head on his shoulder as they walked out of the dungeon. “You’re looking awfully pale, Draco. Were you bitted by a Venomous Tadpole?”

HDHDHD

Harry was miserable.

It had been eleven days since he returned from his negotiations with the Veela. Eleven days since he’d had such an explosive argument with Draco in the Gryffindor common room. Eleven days since he had hurt the boy he loved by begging for a reason to trust him. It’s not that Harry didn’t trust trust Draco. He just didn’t trust him. Completely different. He trusted Draco with all his heart and soul – after all there could be no love without trust and respect. But Harry remembered Draco at fifteen… remembered how much he had truly believed in Voldemort’s ideals of pureblood supremacy. Could he trust Draco with the knowledge of the Horcruxes?

Hermione was equally torn. She had held him when he cried after The Fight, as the trio referred to it, but couldn’t offer much in ways of reassurance. After all, last time they went hunting for Horcruxes, Harry refused to tell even Lupin, Bill, McGonagall, anyone, what they were doing. They had been alone, they had been frightened and tired and hungry, but they had been successful. Would they remain successful if others knew? Right now, they had the locket and Ravenclaw’s lost Diadem in their possession. The book Harry had destroyed at twelve, the fake locket they weren’t worried about yet – would they still need it to gain Kreacher’s loyalty? Sirius was still alive, Kreacher had no ties of fealty to Harry this time – and they needed help getting the stone. Harry remembered Dumbledore telling him about the level of security surrounding it. They would need Narcissa to get into Lestrange’s vault, as well, and then there was Nagini and himself. 

How to tell Draco about this quest… knowing that the first time around Draco had accepted the Dark Mark. Still, he hadn’t had a choice. He could remember Draco standing on the top of the Astronomy Tower with tears in his eyes, screaming about how he didn’t have a choice. Voldemort would have killed Draco’s entire family if he hadn’t succeeded. Harry knew that. Draco really hadn’t had a choice. That was one of the first things Harry recognized as a commonality between the two of them, before thoughts of romance had cemented in his heart. He remembered Draco standing on the tower, shaking with such a terrible burden, and knew that here was one person who knew exactly how Harry felt about being thrust into a position he didn’t want. Neither one of them had a choice in their expectations. Draco needed to kill Dumbledore in sixth year, because to fail would have been too disastrous to consider. Harry had needed to succeed in killing Voldemort for the same reason. Both of their childhoods, such as they were, had ended with that terrible knowledge. Not many could relate to that pressure. 

So much was different, and the differences were killing his spirit. How could he judge Draco for actions the other boy had no knowledge of? How could he tell Draco how he had stalked the blond while he was working on the Vanishing Cabinets? How could he yell at Draco that Fenrir Greyback had mangled Bill’s face when, as yet, there were no Death Eaters in Hogwarts and Bill was fine? How could Harry tell Draco he could still feel the imprint of his body on his back as they zoomed away from Fiendfyre, or the almost desperate pain shining in Draco’s eyes as he refused to name them in front of his Aunt Bellatrix? How could he tell Draco that the day he held him in the library was his best memory of being fifteen – both times around. Would Draco understand? Would he want to?

The trio continued to sit at different tables, continued to promote school unity, and others were following along. However, Draco no longer forgot to sit between Crabbe and Goyle, and his face was always blank when he responded to Harry. No more smiles and blushes and little touches. Harry knew he had hurt Draco with his refusal to tell him, but could Harry sincerely apologize when he was this conflicted? Would the fates demand his heart in exchange for Draco’s life? At least Pansy and Blaise were still his friends, although he caught them frequently looking between himself and Draco with sad expressions.

Harry sighed as he walked down the stairs between classes. He missed Draco. Somehow it was infinitely harder to have him near but not be with him, than to have him be gone all together. He would have to tell him. He needed Draco. 

The pain hit him like someone had stabbed him with a rusty knife. Gasping, Harry was vaguely aware of moaning, vaguely aware of pitching forward, vaguely aware of people screaming around him, vaguely aware of the physical pain of his body falling down the stairs. Landing, he dazedly focused onto a pair of horrified gray eyes before he knew no more. 

HDHDHD

“Tell me, again, why you were unsuccessful?”

“My…my L-Lord…” the man stuttered in fear. “We… we went to… to Az-Azkaban like ordered, My Lord. But, but the Dementors… they were few in number.” The man on the floor was shaking violently and stuttering. Stammering, weak fool. Gesturing with his wand almost lazily, Harry smirked as the pained screams filled the air.

“Why, then, without the aid of my loyal dark supporters, were you unable to bring about the release of my faithful Death Eaters? Do you, perhaps,” his voice was smooth and persuasive, “not wish my followers to be with me? Do you think them unworthy?”

“Oh no! No, My Lord!” The man was shaking as he begged Harry, kneeling before him in trembling terror. “I wish nothing more than to serve you, always you, forever.”

“My Lord?” The voice was slippery and smooth. Turning, Harry acknowledged Lucius Malfoy with a nod of his head. “We went to Azkaban as ordered, only to discover that Veela had infiltrated the castle. Unfortunately, few of your supporters were sincere in their love… for you… and willingly handed over their wands and walked into the waiting cells.”

Harry froze. “Willingly? My Death Eaters willingly walked into cells?”

Lucius looked disgusted. Rightly so, Harry mused, looking almost fondly on Lucius and Severus – his two most loyal followers who loved him enough to resist the allure of the Veela. “Yes, My Lord. The Veela… well, they smiled and danced and said it would make them happy if only they would stay and visit awhile. Nineteen men handed their wands over and eagerly commented on how they have always dreamed of sitting in Azkaban prison. I had to kill Avery, My Lord, as he seemed willing to name off… friends… who would also be happy to join him in prison.”

Harry felt the rage burning inside him. This time when he flicked his wand on the trembling man on the floor, it was deliberate. 

“My Lord?” Not sparing the slightest of glances towards the twitching and moaning man on the floor, Severus Snape stepped forward. “If I may? Neither Dumbledore nor the ministry seems to be aware of the Veela presence at the prison. Perhaps we can still control them?”

Lucius twitched slightly, drawing Snape’s curious gaze. Harry smiled at Lucius – he too was eager to draw Veela blood. “Patience, my pet. Patience. We will kill when it is time. For now, I want troops sent to Little Whinging. We shall exercise some of our demons on a certain pain in my side.”

Severus was looking at Lucius with an odd expression. Hmm… maybe they loved each other? Feeling benevolent now that concrete plans had been made, Harry drew their attention back to him with a single exhalation of breath. “You two may be excused from the raid, as reward for your devotion.” Accepting their kneeled thanks, Harry glanced dismissively at the moaning figure on the floor. “Clean up this mess before you go.” Sweeping from the room, Harry though how much Nagini would enjoy the boy’s fat little cousin. 

HDHDHD

Someone was crying. Muffled, quiet, tears at a steady pace. Blearily Harry tried to offer comfort. “Gash?”

Ringing silence met this offering for a full minute before several people crowded around him. He could hear people calling his name and people patting his shoulder. Someone had his hand in a death grip. Then someone took his other hand. A smooth, cool hand, slightly damp with nervous sweat. Ah, he knew this hand. Turning his head towards the presence, keeping his eyes closed, he smiled. “Diego?”

A dry laugh, slightly strained, answered. “Close enough, I guess.” More nervous laughter, oddly both feminine and masculine met his ears. He felt another smooth hand brush his forehead and wanted to purr in pleasure. “Can you open your eyes for me, my Harry?” The voice sounded quiet and gentle. Harry wanted to listen to it for forever. 

“Uh,” he replied, already feeling the blackness creeping in at the edge of his vision.

A sigh. “Go back to sleep, Harry. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

The hand was removed, and Harry couldn’t suppress a whimper. His body tensed, only to relax when he felt the warmth of another body press against his own, and an arm wrap protectively around his waist. Harry smiled dreamily and went back to sleep.

This time when he awoke, he was able to actually open his eyes. Careful not to disturb the sleeping boy on his side, or the odd lumps over his legs, he carefully removed his hand from whoever was clutching it and reached for his glasses before glancing around. Hermione had been holding his hand, he noted first. Ron was sitting on one side of him, asleep in a chair, his feet propped up on the bed. Pansy was sprawled over his left leg, head buried in his knee. Blaise was on his other side, one hand on his leg, the other on the hip of the boy sleeping next to him. Harry could not suppress the warmth in his chest at the sight of his friends gathered around him. If his body didn’t ache so badly, he would have leapt from bed and danced around in delight. 

He looked over, finally, and met sleepy gray eyes. He smiled. He couldn’t stop the euphoria of looking into warm eyes, emotions no longer hidden. “Hi,” he said softly.

Draco blinked at him, a relieved happy smile spreading over his face. “Hi.”

“So, I gather I’m in the hospital wing, but… umm, what happened?”

Draco’s eyes clouded briefly. When he spoke, his voice was deliberately neutral. Harry knew that tone. Draco was worried and scared and didn’t like it. “According to your,” he glanced down at Hermione and Ron with a scowl, “friends,” Harry wondered what happened to make Draco so angry towards them; “you had a vision of sorts.” Ah, that would do it. They knew what had happened and were being vague with the details. Draco hated not knowing everything when people he loved were harmed. Feeling ridiculously cheered by that knowledge Harry almost missed the rest of Draco’s explanation. “Unfortunately, you were walking when it happened, and decided it would be fun to fall down three flights of stairs.” Draco shuddered slightly, and Harry felt no qualms from releasing his arm once again from Hermione to wrap in around the other boy. It seemed to comfort them both. 

“Draco…” Harry began.

“No,” Draco answered quietly. “We’ll talk later. Right now it’s late, and you need to go back to sleep.”

Harry nodded reluctantly. “Will you go with me somewhere tomorrow? I want to tell you everything. And I want you to help me… well; I think you need to be there.”

Draco eyed him closely before nodding. Kissing him gently, Harry snuggled closer and both were soon asleep.

Narcissa eyed the sprawled teenagers in front of her with amusement. None of them had seen her watching in the shadows. Removing her wand, she levitated them all. Enlarging the bed to a king size, she gently lowered Harry and Draco into the middle. The two instantly cuddled even closer together. Arranging their friends around them, Narcissa cast a protection charm before leaving. The boys needed their rest tonight. Now, she needed to find her husband.


	9. To Exorcise One's Fear

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

Malfoy’s were nothing if not sociable to their guests.

With that in mind, Lucius rather graciously gestured his guest into the sitting room while he went to make preparations. If he was going to explain, he was going to do so sociably. “Dobby!” he called out forcibly. “Wait… err… Pinky! No, no she died. Hmm… Elf!” Marlin, the Malfoy family house elf, appeared on this command looking less than impressed. Ignoring the lack of deference, Lucius ordered, “Prepare our prisoners for inquisition!” 

Marlin looked confused. “Prisoners, Master? The dungeons are empty.”

Lucius swore. Had he forgotten to lock the door to the cell again? No matter, the wards were such they couldn’t leave the premises. “Guests, whatever,” he said irritably. “Round them up and put them in the dungeon again. I will be down shortly.” 

Marlin looked skeptical, but his position demanded subservience. “Yes, Master.” He disappeared with a pop.

Lucius waited five minutes before collecting his guest and preceding the way to the family dungeons. He swore abruptly when he saw his, umm, his, people, sitting around a table waiting on him before starting their tea. Damn it, was Hestia wearing his wife’s dress? For that matter, was Dedalus? No matter. Gesturing to his guest to remain hidden, Lucius stepped forward. “Prisoners,” he began formally, choosing to ignoring the odd choking noise, “it is with great pride I tell you I have become a double agent. I would now like to introduce you to a fellow Death Eater. One who has seen the error of his ways and chooses to serve the path of the light as well. Mr. Severus Snape!” Gesturing grandly, Lucius stepped aside to allow Snape to walk out of the shadows. 

Absolutely appalling respect for manners and propriety, Lucius thought, as Snape gave him a sour look. Charlie waved and called out, “lo mate!” Hestia rolled her eyes and snorted, Dedalus winked, and Doge simply nodded, looking confused. Lucius was barely given a moment to feel insulted when Narcissa strolled into the room. Acknowledging the shouted out greetings with a nod, she eyed her husband and friend in amusement for a moment before calling out, “Marlin.”

The elf appeared instantly and swept into a low bow. “Oh, yes, Mistress Narcissa, how can Marlin help his gracious mistress today?” Lucius was rather put out.

“Marlin, won’t you be so kind to arrange another sitting at the table? I would so like some tea.” The elf nearly fell over himself hurrying to do her bidding. Once everything was arranged to her satisfaction, Narcissa regally seated herself at the table. “Now,” she began. “Let’s get everyone caught up, shall we?”

HDHDHD

Harry was going to vomit.

He knew it, he accepted it, and he prayed he wouldn’t vomit on his friends. Something told him they wouldn’t like that too much. Whatever had possessed him to do this in here? Even while hunting Horcruxes, Harry had never returned to the Chamber of Secrets. The mere thought of it made him ill. Yet here he was nearly three years later – three years from both memories, he thought bitterly - staring at the door separating the pile of fallen rock from the chamber in which he had fought a basilisk. He looked over at Hermione, hoping for reassurance, only to find her taking deep breaths and clutching tightly at Ron’s hand. Great, her viewings of the chamber were about as happy as his.

Yep, he was definitely going to vomit.

“Harry,” a quiet voice came from his left. “We don’t have to do this today, we can wait if… if it’s this hard for you.”

Harry focused on Draco. As he spoke Draco was looking around him cautiously. Harry laughed suddenly, remembering Draco’s look of utter distaste when he learned he would need to slide down the slimy filthy tunnel. Even while grumbling about plebian adventurers, Draco had bravely agreed. It was no surprise to anyone when Draco whipped out his wand afterwards and cleaned everyone’s clothes and robes; as well as his hair, teeth, nails, and even polishing his shoes. Therefore, while Harry, Ron, Hermione, Blaise, and Pansy all looked presentable if slightly rumpled, Draco seemed to fairly glow with cleanliness. 

“No,” he replied, still smiling fondly at Draco, “I’ll be fine. Just… well, just brace yourself. It’s really… dirty in there. And rather creepy. But the basilisk is dead, so we’ll be ok. I wonder if my blood stain is still there?” Turning to Hermione, he continued after her hesitant nod. “Hmm… then the ink stain will be there as well. Wonder if Salazar’s mouth is still open?” At the touch on his arm, Harry turned to look at his friends. It took one look at their faces to tell him he had been babbling. “Well,” he smiled weakly, “let’s go.”

Not pausing to see if they followed or not, he knew Draco would, Harry boldly walked into the chamber. There was the basilisk, faded and shriveled, wrinkled, but still daunting to look at. Harry remembered running away; and the sickening jolt as the sword pierced its flesh with a muffled sucking noise. His arm abruptly throbbed at the memory, and Harry absently reached over to rub the scar through the layer of clothes. He though, rather bitterly, that all of his scars could one way or another be traced back to Voldemort. Forcing himself to continue, Harry walked through the echoing cavern until he stood over two large stains – one black, one rust covered. He remembered bleeding there. Stabbing the diary over and over, feeling a rush of satisfaction as the ink bubbled and burned out of the book; fighting to ignore the compulsion to stab the man who had hurt his friend so badly. Trying not to look at Ginny, afraid he would weaken further, as he dealt with the sixteen year old memory of Tom Riddle. He remembered the heady rush of dizziness as the poison burned through his system; not really caring if he was going to die once he knew Ginny would survive intact, if no longer innocent.

Had he been innocent, even at twelve?

Taking several shallow breaths, Harry turned – and felt his nausea subside with a bang. There they were. All of them. Pale faced, sick looking, trembling or scowling, his friends stood behind him. And Harry realized it didn’t matter if he couldn’t count innocence as a virtue he possessed. For even as it was when Dumbledore wept his regret to him in his office after fifth year, Harry knew with a soul strengthening certainty, that he possessed love. It filled him, it consumed him, it strengthened him even when at his weakest point. And for the first time since starting this crazy journey back in time, Harry knew that if he had the decision to make all over again, his response would be the same. For he had already changed the future for the better. Draco, Pansy, and Blaise had divided and conquered the Slytherin’s – swaying more and more of them away from Voldemort’s reign of terror. Their influence was allowing the kids to act like kids, and even the children who fancied themselves loyal to the darkness did not betray their friend’s new allegiances. Would Pansy have tried to get the Great Hall to turn him over to Voldemort during the final battle if she hadn’t feared she would be killed for keeping silent? Would she, for that matter, have even become a Death Eater – she who was so fiercely loyal to Draco – had he not been forced into service? 

And in that moment, Harry loved them all, and needed to be as honest as he could. He sat down, smiling when they all mimicked him. “Once upon a time…” he began. Of course it was edited. He told them he had learned information on how to destroy Voldemort, the searching for them, the role he needed them to play, his plans for the next few months. He told them how his visions allowed him access to Voldemort’s thoughts, and how he knew he would have to sacrifice himself in the final battle. Here, Draco jerked violently before reaching over to grip Harry’s hand tightly. Nervously, Harry told how if he sacrificed himself with a pure heart, and with love behind him, he was likely to survive. And finally he nodded to Hermione, and managed not to sigh as she removed a thick white box and a tiara from her purse and silently placed them before him.

This time, only Draco noticed that Hermione did not seem surprised.

“So… are we playing dress up? Because I already know I’m a princess, thanks all the same.” Although rather feeble, Pansy’s joke made them all laugh. Somewhat desperately, but it allowed the tension to abate all the same. 

Harry explained how he had destroyed the first Horcrux when he was twelve, before knowing what a Horcrux even was, and the process of splitting ones soul to create such a monstrosity. He was only vaguely reassured to notice they all looked rather sick at the thought. Solemnly, he walked to the carcass of the basilisk and broke off two of the magically venomous teeth. He knew this would work, for it was how Hermione had destroyed Helga Hufflepuff’s cup on that awful night. Carefully, he handed one of the poisonous relics to Draco. 

Draco looked rather startled, but accepted the offering after only the faintest of hesitations. “I want you to destroy one of them.” Harry was proud over how smooth and confident he sounded, even as Draco’s eyes widened and his head whipped around to face Harry. “It will play on your greatest fear, your one true weakness of heart, and try to destroy what is pure and whole inside of you.” Draco paled, and Harry felt horrible even as he continued. “I love you Draco. I love you so much. But it’s not easy loving me. I need you to know that you are strong enough to survive your deepest, most secret fear, in case…” how was he to tell the boy he loved in case he died? “… In case you doubt how strong you truly are.”

Turning, he handed the other tooth to Ron. “My first mate, my best mate. No matter what comes between us, we always find each other again. I love you Ron. You are the first family I ever had. I know sometimes you think you are weak and helpless, embarrassed over your lack of monetary wealth,” Ron flushed and looked away from him and Hermione. “Ron,” Harry’s voice was gentle as he waited for the blushing redhead to meet his eyes. “You are the richest person I know. I have been jealous of you since I met you. You have a family that always loved you, and always will. I value you. I need you to do this, so you know to value yourself.” 

Harry sat down again and waited. Slowly, Draco reached out and placed the white box in front of him before removing the necklace. He placed it in front of him before turning to Harry uncertainly. Harry looked at Draco, trying to send as much love and support as he could, before switching to Parseltongue and hissing, “Open.” It was with a sick sense of fascination they watched as the luminous figures of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy appeared. Faces twisted into ugly grimaces, they raged at Draco in disgust for turning his back on everything they had raised him to be. Hissing how Harry was using him for political gain, for who could love such a miserable spoiled brat as Draco. On and on it continued, until with a muffled scream Draco pierced the tooth through his parents face and listened to them scream before they faded into nothingness. Nobody said a word when Draco launched himself at Harry and burrowed into his arms.

Harry clung to Draco, shaking and sick, even as he turned to an ashen faced Ron. Ron was already shaking as he turned to the tiara. This one was rather similar to Mrs. Weasley’s boggart, Harry reflected absently, as the others gasped at the image of body after body being tortured in front of their eyes. Ron was crying, Hermione was whimpering and scrabbling at his back, Pansy and Blaise seemed frozen. Their foray into dark magic had not included teachings like this. Finally Ron plunged the tooth through the image of Hermione choking up blood. 

Nobody spoke for a long time. By mutual agreement, they clung together, crying, letting the horror of the memories wash themselves out of their bodies. Mutely, Harry shrunk the destroyed Horcruxes so they would both fit into the white box before stuffing them back into the purse. As before, he felt a curious lightness in his bones knowing that three of the seven Horcruxes were gone forever; he was that much closer to completion. It took them a long time to find the strength to leave the chamber.

Harry sent them to bed, promising to keep them informed on his future plans, before quietly asking Draco if he would go one last place with him. Draco nodded silently, and didn’t ask a word, even as they went to Snape’s quarters and collected a large black dog. They were quiet as they walked to the gates of Hogwarts, quiet as Sirius transformed, quiet as Sirius paled but nonetheless apparrated Harry where he asked to go. 

Quiet still as they all stood on the graves of Harry’s parents. 

HDHDHD

Severus Snape considered himself a fine human being. Even when he was sober. 

However, as a man who never particularly liked animals to begin with, living with a dog – even one occasionally disguised as a man – was enough to try even the finest of men’s patience. He considered it a testament to his character that he had only cursed the man a handful of times. And without using a single Unforgivable at that. Yes, that definitely deserved another toast. So when he came home from the Malfoy’s to find the dog disguised as a man and a filthy werewolf drinking it up, what else would a fine human being do except join in?

“They were beautiful people, you know.” Sirius was weeping as he tilted the bottle to his lips again. “Beautiful people.”

“James was an arrogant insolent git,” Snape sneered. At least he hoped he sneered. Snape’s did not whine. “But Lily,” he sighed brokenly, “Lily was special.”

“She was, wasn’t she?” Lupin sighed reminiscently as he accepted the bottle in turn. “She was far too good for this world, far too good to be exposed to people like us.”

For the first time, ever, the three men nodded in perfect agreement. 

In companionable silence, they drank till they passed out. Snape sighed, even as he cuddled his head deeper into the filthy werewolf’s chest. Maybe these two weren’t so bad after all. “Budge over,” Sirius ordered drunkenly, prodding at Snape’s back until he shifted closer to Lupin. Settling himself onto the bed, Sirius immediately began snoring. Snape thought fleetingly how odd it was to be falling asleep with two marauders. He yawned again, enjoying the heat surrounding him. Oh well, he’d deal with it later.

HDHD

Dumbledore realized the time for deliberation was over.

In the ministry, the orders from Fudge were becoming increasingly desperate and ridiculous. Kingsly, of course, was still “searching” for Sirius, while Tonks blithely went about her business – collecting information and working. 

Sirius had vanished, Snape smirked whenever he saw him, Harry’s new friends the Slytherins looked emotionally exhausted, Hermione had not been in the library for six days, and Harry… Harry was up to something. Of that he was certain. As was Voldemort. Dumbledore was not looking forward to telling Harry the news regarding his uncle and cousin, or that his aunt was a virtual prisoner in her own home. 

Dark and difficult times lie ahead,

Even he never realized how prophetic his words had been. It was time to overcome his fears, share his worries and ideals, and strip away the innocence of youth forever.

It was time to talk to Harry Potter.

HDHDHD

In the Gryffindor common room, dark hair and light hair were pressed so closely together they almost seemed to blend into one. Hermione smiled at the sight of the sleeping boys on the couth in front of the fire. Something in her heart, something secret and long buried, soothed itself over as she watched the peaceful scene. Carefully, she covered the boys with a blanket, freezing as they shifted and murmured. Relaxing as they cuddled closer together and fell back asleep. It had been a hard day. The boys needed their rest.

Tomorrow was soon enough to begin Stage Four.


	10. Nothing But The Truth

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

Harry’s smile was more than a little wicked and made Pansy fleetingly have regrets he had chosen Draco. Damn him. Why were all the good ones gay? Flushing slightly over the thought of Harry and her best friend together, Pansy focused on the task at hand. Made slightly difficult as Harry seemed determined to walk past her a few times… wow, without a robe on you could really get an appreciation for… oh crap, he was looking at her. Beaming a smile, Pansy followed Harry into a room. Where did this door come from? Pansy could almost swear it hadn’t been here a few minutes ago.

The room was large and spacious, yet spartanly filled. A plush sofa was placed in front of a roaring fire, while several large tables filled with goblets and vials bordered two of the four walls. Pansy was about to ask Harry what was going on, when the door opened and a blonde girl wandered in so absent mindedly Pansy almost wondered if she knew where she was. “Hello Harry,” the girl sang out. “Your spirit is brighter today. Have you been praying to the Goat God Pham?”

Harry looked rather constricted for a minute, turning towards Pansy to hide his twitching lips. “Hey Luna. No, it’s just been a really good week. Thanks for coming.” Luna wandered over to the tables and Pansy turned to Harry with a skeptical look on her face.

“Err…” Harry began, raking his hands absently through his hair. He really was adorable, Pansy thought fondly. “Pansy, today I am going to introduce you to one of my friends. I need your help with a plan of sorts.”

Pansy deliberately turned towards Luna, before looking back at Harry. “I’ve already met Luna,” she replied calmly. “We met the day of your makeover, remember?” Pansy’s smile increased a notch over the wash of red on Harry’s cheeks.

“Green is really a good color for you, Harry,” Luna called out serenely, dropping gracefully onto the floor by the fire. Pansy snorted.

“Not her.” Harry deliberately ignored both his embarrassment and the statement, "another of my friends.” 

Harry grinned. “Dobby!”

HDHDHD

Hermione was prone to nerves, and that would never do.

Gazing at the class before her, she sternly lectured herself. She had co-taught Dumbledore’s Army, she had flown on Hippogriffs and Dragons, been tortured under the Cruciatus curse, lied to Umbridge’s face after breaking into the Ministry of Magic, and traveled back in time with her best friend to save the love of her life. This was nothing. Closing her eyes momentarily, Hermione quietly repeated to herself there was a reason Harry had asked her to Polyjuice as Narcissa Malfoy. She would not fail in this task. Opening her eyes, she nodded weakly to Draco, who patiently waited with his arm raised, “yes?”

“Mum… excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy,” the class twittered nervously. Draco gave her a meaningful look. “What was on the lesson plan for today?” He gazed at her expressionlessly, yet with a smile on the corner of his lips. Clearly, he was reminding her that his mother would never show weakness in front of the enemy. Or students. Whatever. 

Encouraged and oddly reassured, Hermione smirked and raised her chin. “Thank you for volunteering, Mr. Malfoy. If you’ll please come to the front of the class?” Draco looked startled and slightly apprehensive, yet complied nonetheless. Once he stood before her, Hermione raised her wand and thought – Stupefy – Incarcerous . Instantly Draco froze before cords wrapped securely around his body. Hermione smiled into his furious gaze before releasing him. “Thank you Mr. Malfoy, you may be seated.” Sulking, Draco returned to his seat.

“Today class, you are going to learn how to wordlessly cast Stupefy.” The class broke out in excited murmurs; Hermione stared down her nose at them in her best Professor Snape impersonation until they quieted. “Although traditionally a skill learned in sixth year, dark and difficult times call for… creative measures.” The class was oddly subdued after that statement, much to Hermione’s satisfaction, as she divided them into pairs and set them working. “Nevi…” she caught herself just in time. “Mr. Potter, you will pair with Mr. Malfoy. No need to look so worried. Come along.”

A knock on the door distracted Hermione, and she turned to see Minerva McGonagall standing in the door. “Sorry, Narcissa,” she started, looking anything but. “But the Headmaster requests a word with Mr. Potter.” She gestured to Neville to come to her side. He, in turn, looked at Hermione with a look of terrified pleading. Pollyjuicing as Harry Potter was one thing if it would help out friends. There was no way Neville could pull off the act in front of the headmaster.

Fully aware of the blonde aristocrat she impersonated, Hermione drew herself to her full height and stared her professor down. Huh, apparently Snape knew what he was doing, she thought, as McGonagall blushed slightly. “No, Minerva,” she replied coldly. “Mr. Potter is needed in class today. I suggest the Headmaster contact him later. During your class, perhaps?” Hermione’s heart was racing as she turned back to the class. “Well,” she ordered the kids, causing many of them to jump, “begin.” Ignoring the outraged gasp from the door, Hermione sent her teacher a silent apology even as she vocalized. “You may shut the door on your way out.”

Hermione was quite thankful she had never been foolish enough to pursue teaching as a career. She’d have had a heart attack by now. 

HDHDHD

Harry had never thought Azkaban could be so inviting. 

As he strolled along the passages, Narcissa secured in the crook of his arm, he waived and nodded to the many inmates calling out cheerful greetings. Several inmates were cleaning, while humming; still others were sewing together ragged clothing, while others still were discussing recipes and cosmetic improvements for the stone fortress. Narcissa looked rather annoyed, while Harry had to practically choke himself to stop laughing. Stopping in front of a cell, Harry was distracted from his amusement when a voice that grated on every nerve he possessed called out, “Lucius! Cissy! You came to visit! How delightful!”

“Hello Bella,” Narcissa responded graciously, instinctively tightening her grip on Harry’s arm as he stiffened. “Lucius, darling, perhaps you could wander around for a few minutes… give your two favorite girls a chance for a bit of a visit?” Nodding curtly, Harry bowed lightly to Bellatrix Lestrange, biting his tongue to keep the scathing comments at bay as she giggled – he better get major points with the fates for THAT – kissed Narcissa’s hand, and stepped away. 

While the girls “chatted,” Harry wandered over to a prisoner beating rugs out an open window. He was unrestrained, properly clothed, and standing mere feet from a door. Looking closely, Harry thought he looked familiar… “Goyle?” He called out.

Goyle, Sr., turned at his name, breaking into a grin at the man before him. “Lucius! You slippery old snake! Come to visit?” 

Harry ignored the question, turning instead to look at the door directly behind him. “Why don’t you simply walk out?”

Those words had a profound effect on Goyle. He backed away from Harry as his whole face collapsed in shock. “Leave? Leave?!? But that would make them so sad!”

Harry blinked at the fearsome Death Eater for a minute, attempting to formulate a response, when a voice as light as tinkling bells floated over towards them. “Goyle? You’re not thinking of leaving us already, are you?” Turning together, Harry gaped at the delicate young lady before him. She looked as though a strong wind would knock her over. Her long blonde hair fell to her waist, and even as her blue eyes sparkled her pretty face was turned up in a pout. 

“Oh no! No, never! I would never do anything to make you sad! Look, I’m all done cleaning the rugs. I’ll just go put them away and go right back to my cell, ok? I’m studying to become the next Minister of Magic, you know.” As the Veela beamed, Goyle muttered a hasty goodbye to Harry and practically ran to do as he had promised.

Harry turned to see the Veela eyeing him carefully. He met her gaze full on, and was slightly startled when an image of Morgana popped into his head. The Veela smiled. “Have a good day, Mr. Potter,” she murmured, bowing her head deferentially before turning away.

Harry gaped. “Shut your mouth dear, you are not a codfish.” Meeting Narcissa’s amused gaze, Harry flushed. “Well now,” Narcissa said, beaming all the wider, “I never thought I would live to see my husband flush so prettily again.”

Glaring, Harry took her arm again. “Did you get the note, darling?” he bit out through a forced smile.

“Of course,” Narcissa replied, utterly unfazed by this show of frustration. Harry started, staring at her in amazement. She met his gaze. They both smiled. Now they were off to Gringott’s, where Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy would have no trouble getting into the Lestrange vault, seeing as Narcissa’s dear sister had written a letter of permission. 

Harry wondered if his dragon would still be there. He looked at Narcissa speculatively. Yep, he could probably talk her into a little dragon ride before returning to Hogwarts.

HDHDHD

Draco was bored, and more than a little eager to see Harry.

Harry had been beaming when he and Narcissa had slipped into dinner. He had such a great smile. However, Harry had barely managed to slip a package to Hermione and kiss his cheek before McGonagall had marched him right back out of the room and straight to the headmaster. Draco hadn’t seen Harry all day. Not that he was sulking, mind you. Malfoy’s certainly do not sulk.

“What are you thinking about Draco?” Crabbe looked curiously at Draco’s pouting face.

“Harry,” he replied automatically; wincing only a little at how pathetic that sounded. Thank God too many people feared the Malfoy name to comment on it.

“Umm...” a drawn out noise of appreciation. “I think about him sometimes. He has a hot ass.” The minute the words left her mouth, the seventh year Slytherin slapped a hand over her mouth and turned horrified eyes on a suddenly glaring Draco.

“Ooohhhh… yes,” Theodore Nott piped up. “And have you seen him on a broom?” Nott froze and closed his eyes briefly before turning to a visibly angry Draco.

“And his eyes,” a first year chirped out. Chirpy little annoying wench. “He has the most expressive eyes.” She sighed happily.

Draco was literally vibrating with fury. He wanted to hex them. Castrate them. Make them bleed and scream and apologize for ever having looked at his Harry. Wait… HIS Harry? When did that happen? Before he could comment further, a quietly giggling Pansy flopped down in the seat next to him. Giggling? She dared to giggle as these… these… what had Granger called him? Ah yes… these foul loathsome evil cockroaches discussed his Harry! He’d never liked Pansy anyway. The bitch.

He started slightly as he felt her press something into his palm. Ha! Like a note of apology would make him feel better. He knew where her loyalties lay now! Deciding to read her pitiful words before hexing her to the gates of Hell – he had known her since he was four, courtesy and all that jazz – Draco opened the note with angry gestures. 

~ Draco – Calm the fuck down! Luna and I poured Veritaserum into all the goblets used for dinner, and Dobby made sure all the Slytherin and Ravenclaw kids got them. Granger and one of her Hufflepuff twits are doing their houses tomorrow. Did you know Potter had an elf? Huh. Doesn’t seem the type. Anyway, we need to find out for sure who’s loyal to You-Know-Who and this seemed the easiest way. Blaise is searching the boy’s dormitory right now, and I just finished the girls. The whole house is gathered. It’s time to hold court! ~P~

Oh. Well. Pansy has always been one of his best friends.

Draco refused to blush. No matter how warm his face was, he was not blushing. He was plotting. Avoiding Pansy’s knowing gaze, Draco stood up. Waiting till all eyes were on him, he flicked an imaginary speck of dust off his robes. “So,” he drawled. “Voldemort. Thoughts?”

Several people looked stricken, a few froze, Pansy rolled her eyes, Blaise grinned, and Draco smirked as the voices began answering - it was going to be an entertaining night. Although… he was still feeling rather tense from peoples obvious respect for his Harry’s… attributes. Maybe someone would say something else about him. Draco knew several good hexes just perfect for relieving tension.

He absently wondered if Unforgivable curses could be traced from inside a school.

HDHDHD

Harry hadn’t been this uncomfortable inside the headmaster’s office since second year when everyone thought he was the heir of Slytherin. Or fourth year; when Fawkes had to fix his knee after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Or fifth year; when he trashed the place in a fit of indignation and self-hatred. Or sixth year, when he saw Dumbledore sleeping inside a frame, instead of perched behind the desk. Fuck it. He hated this office. Caught up in his thoughts, he started slightly when Dumbledore began to speak. 

“Harry. It has been quite awhile since we have spoken.”

“I understand sir. You needed to assure yourself Voldemort didn’t think he could access my mind and manipulate my actions. Must have been terribly stressful for you.”

Dumbledore looked rather startled at this carelessly thrown out statement, and watched Harry closely as he sipped his tea. “Indeed,” he replied at last. “It was rather rude of you, you know, to refuse Professor McGonagall the way you did this afternoon.”

“I was waiting for you to make the first move,” he responded quickly. “Draco’s teaching me strategy.” Fuck. He knew Hermione had that look on her face like she needed to tell him something. He hadn’t had time to question her though.

Abruptly he recognized Dumbledore was staring at him. Harry pasted a smile on his face. Dumbledore watched him closely for a moment before gently inquiring, “Is there something you wish to tell me?” 

Harry wanted to shout for joy. Finally, finally he could talk to Dumbledore. He knew he had needed to give the man time to deal with his own demons, but Harry had been praying he would just hurry up and get on with it already. It had shattered a large part of his heart when Dumbledore – his last and greatest protector – had died. All he wanted to do was hug the man and breathe him in. However, Harry had enough with being manipulated the first time around. He could not allow Dumbledore to believe withholding pertinent information, even in a bid for protection, was an acceptable way of dealing with a situation. Last time that had been what killed Sirius, what very nearly killed him, what almost split apart his friendship with Ron and Hermione, and what led to too many people dying while Harry worked out the clues. This time would be different. It had to be.

Harry finally met the kind blue eyes. “Is there something you wish to tell ME, sir?” 

Dumbledore looked very old and very tired as he sighed.

Slowly, haltingly, he told Harry about the prophecy. He explained about lying in answering all of Harry’s questions, manipulating situation to force Harry to learn to depend on himself, encouraging Harry to develop his friendship with Ron and Hermione, and about how Neville could have been the Chosen One. A fleeting thought, terrible in its simplicity, raced through Harry’s head. He made a mental note to talk urgently with Hermione before returning his attention to Dumbledore. 

Dumbledore talked for a long time, and looked quite exhausted once he’d finished. Harry regarded him closely for a minute. To the best of his memory, Dumbledore hadn’t lied or withheld any information. In fact, this conversation was slightly more forthcoming than the one they’d originally had when Harry destroyed his office. Slowly, Harry took a sip of tea to ease the nervous tightness in his throat. “Sir,” he began calmly. “Do you remember showing me the memory of young Tom Riddle at the orphanage? The day you went to collect him and set his wardrobe on fire.”

Harry could practically feel the tension increase in the air as Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened on him. “No, Harry, I do not.”

Harry nodded, as though this was of little consequence. “Well, sir, do you remember directing me to Professor Slughorn? When you asked me to retrieve the memory of the night he taught Tom Riddle about Horcruxes?”

Dumbledore merely shook his head, never taking his eyes off the too adult face in front of him.

Harry was almost whispering by now. “One last question, sir. Do you remember the night you and I went in search of a Horcrux? The night I force fed you poison? Only to return to find Death Eaters inside Hogwarts.”

A pained expression crossed the headmaster’s face at those words. He seemed to go rather pale, although he still remained quiet. Harry watched wordlessly as he freshened both his and Harry’s cups of tea. “Harry, my dear boy,” his tone was so gentle and so resigned Harry had to suddenly blink back tears. “Please. Won’t you start at the beginning?”

“Just one more thing,” Harry replied, in a voice tight with tears. Standing up, he swiftly walked over to the cabinet Dumbledore kept his Pensieve in and placed it on the desk between them. Concentrating hard, he selected the memories he was searching for and pulled them slowly away from his head. They seemed to glisten and pulse and he stared at them for a moment in silent reflection before gently placing them inside the pensieve. Motioning to Dumbledore to go first, they fell down into the cool rush of Harry… falling into the memories Snape gave him on that blood filled night in the Shrieking Shack.

When they returned to the office, Dumbledore was shaking and Harry felt hollow. He hated reliving memories of that time. Any memories, truth be told. His life had not been the exact makings of a bed side story. Dumbledore sat behind his desk in absolute silence for a few minutes. Harry let him. When at last he looked at Harry, there were tears streaming down his face.

Harry nodded. He kept his head lowered as he discussed returning home from school after fourth year. Nearly five years ago. 

It didn’t surprise him in the slightest when Hermione was ordered to the office as well.


	11. A Wrinkle In Time

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

Neville Longbottom walked away from the library chatting happily with Ginny Weasley. As a slightly… underdeveloped… wizard, he really didn’t have that many friends. No matter how pure his blood was, not having much power packed a hell of a bang. He was grateful to Harry. Harry, after all, came with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Now Luna, Draco, Pansy, and Blaise. Neville couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had ever felt more accepted and blessed. None of his friends ridiculed him for his lack of talent, and, indeed, tried to help him as much as possible. Truth be told, they helped him more than the teachers did.

“Hey, Neville, right?”

Turning, Neville and Ginny saw a sixth year Slytherin hurrying towards them. He looked familiar… tall, kind lank build, dark hair and eyes. Simon or Mark or Thomas or something. The boy approached and smiled at them. “Nicholas Thompson,” he greeted. Right, well, he was close.

“Hi,” Ginny piped up, looking at him with slight suspicion.

“Ginny, right?” At her nod, he smiled again. “Yeah, you’re Blaise’s girl. I remember.” Pretending not to notice the rosy hue on her cheeks at his comment, Nicholas turned back to Neville. “Sorry to startle you, but I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Neville looked slightly disconcerted at that.

“Err… no offense… but why?”

“Oh, well, Harry sent me to find you.” Glancing slightly at Ginny, Nicholas leaned in closer so she couldn’t hear completely. “He said you’re having some trouble mastering some basic defensive spells, and asked me to review them with you. I’m one of Draco’s friends, so he knows I’m good”

Neville flushed, a mixture of pride and embarrassment welling within. He knew Harry would think of him! He’d been so distracted lately, they hadn’t really had time to just hang out and chat. But, typical Harry, he was making sure his friends were taken care of. Smiling at Ginny, he replied, “Do you mind if Gin comes too? She can use some brushing up on spells too.”

Nicholas shrugged. “Not at all. In fact, I can pair you two together, which leaves me free to critique your wand movement and casting strength.”

Neville felt good as they followed Nicholas down the stairs. He liked having friends.

HDHDHD

Harry wished he could have just one memory that didn’t make him feel sick to his stomach.

Christmas holidays let out in three days, and he had already been invited to spend it at Malfoy Manor with Draco. He was undeniably excited at the prospect, as Sirius had been invited as well, and didn’t want this task hanging over his head. Which is why, at eleven thirty at night, he was standing in the middle of a graveyard with Draco and Snape. He really did not want Draco there, but the boy had thrown a tantrum and refused to let Harry leave without him. When Harry was knocked unconscious and woke up locked in Draco’s room with a pissed off boyfriend… well, Draco was a rather persuasive fighter. Harry had never been so happy to lose an argument.

Memories alone could not refute the reality of their situation, and Harry wasted no time rushing them from the graveyard and down the lane to the Gaunt house. He needed to get the ring, he needed to get it tonight, and he needed to get the Hell away from the graveyard where Cedric had died and Voldemort had been reborn. As a Death Eater, Snape understood. As someone who found beauty in unusual places, Draco wanted to linger and explore. Harry solved the problem by turning and walking off. Even beauty could not make Draco stay alone in a graveyard in the dead of night. Probably one of the reasons he’d been such an abysmal Death Eater, Harry reflected. 

The Gaunt house was almost exactly as Harry remembered it from when Tom Riddle had murdered his uncle. Dirty and rundown, the dead snake was still nailed above the door. How very welcoming. The door was locked and would not open to Snape’s spells. Feeling oddly resigned, Harry stared at the dead snake and hissed out “open” in Parseltongue. The door opened with a creak, and a damp smell of decay rushed out. Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste while Harry and Snape simply exchanged grim glances. “Wands out,” Harry murmured, “Lumos.”

Just as in Dumbledore’s memory, the interior was empty, save the trunk in the far corner. Oddly, the trunk was shiny. Like it had lit up in greeting to the Parseltongue greeting outside. Some kind of secret initiation, maybe. Snape stepped forward and murmured, a faint blue light escaping from the end of his wand. They watched in silence as the beam split itself over – turning green, red, black, and a darker blue. “Dark spells indeed,” Snape said at last. Harry had to suppress a shiver of unease at the respect in the man’s tone.

“Let’s just do this quickly,” Harry said. He could hear whispers gathering around the house. He could not suppress the feeling he was being watched. He had never wanted to be somewhere else so badly in his life and for the first time wished he had just left this one to Dumbledore. No. No, don’t think that, he scolded himself. This needs to be done. 

It was anti climactic, really. With Snape there, it took them barely twenty minutes to get through the wards and uncover the stone. Harry didn’t think to be worried after another blue stream of light pronounced the site cleared of hexes. He simply reached forward and grabbed the stone, placing his fisted hand in his pocket. 

He made it one step away before the pain ripped through him, and the world once again went black.

HDHDHD

He really had no business sleeping with his mother.

Harry felt no remorse, no hesitation, no guilt, as he walked up the driveway to the Riddle house. Granted, had the man been able to think of anything besides sex, he, himself, wouldn’t be there. But still. He was a Muggle. From a family of Muggles. He was not worthy to breathe the same air as his mother, let alone impregnate her. Once he had made an heir, like the disgusting Muggle he was, he left her alone. His mother died, because Muggle filth had dared taint the legendary bloodline of Salazar Slytherin. 

One flick of his wand and the door opened in front of him. Pathetic, he thought with a cold smile. Look at them – sitting in the living room, laughing together at their own stupidity. Look at me, he commanded silently. Like the puppets Muggles were, the woman raised her head and locked eyes on him standing in the doorway. 

He smiled as he tasted her fear.

“Tom?” She whispered in shock. The two idiots on the floor turned to look at her. Harry simply inclined his head in malicious greeting. 

"Hello, Grandmother,” he said coldly. He laughed as she flinched and the two men whipped around to look at him. There was no trace of laughter on their faces anymore. Calmly walking into the room, he let them admire him. He knew, from the loose girls constantly throwing themselves at him, that he was damn good looking. Those not smart enough to want him were easily coerced into it by their fear and sense of self preservation.. 

The woman was crying. “We wanted to find you. We searched, but she had disappeared.” She looked at him imploringly. “Please, believe us. We would never turn our back on our own blood.” Deliberately, Harry turned his eyes to the man sitting on the floor, head bowed. The woman flinched as he met her eyes again. What was this… did she feel shame over her son’s actions? Interesting.

The other man was looking at him now, tears welling. “You look just like my father,” he choked out. “He was a great man. You’re great too, I can already tell.” He smiled, allowing the look to slowly die as Harry gazed at him without expression. Interesting, Harry thought, the man is now looking at me the way Dumbledore does. Very interesting. Who knew there were smart Muggles?

“She tricked me, you know. Brewed a love potion. She was a witch, you know. I had no choice.” The youngest Tom looked defiant as he continued to stare at the floor. Weak, Harry thought. Weak and too stupid to know the gift he’d been offered. If only his mother hadn’t been weak as well. She would have been proud to know the son she created. But she was weak. And weakness is unacceptable. 

“Why are you here?” Ah, the suspicious one again. Harry could already read the knowledge in his eyes. The man looked sad, and resigned.

“I’m going to kill you, of course.” Harry spoke so simply it was a full minute before his birth father and the woman processed it. The woman wailed slightly, pressing her hand firmly against her mouth to suppress the noise. Smart, for useless scum. The other Tom, his birth namesake, jerked his head up and looked at his son for the first time. 

“We’re not one of you,” the older one, his Grandfather, Harry supposed, spoke with a quiet dignity. As if Muggles were capable of such a pureblood emotion. “We can’t do magic, can’t brew a love potion,” he smiled weakly at that, “but I swear. I swear on my blood. I swear on my name. You will never be free from this action. We will be with you as you live, and you will remember us as you die.”

Harry smirked. His voice was gentle, teasing, as he answered. “Ah, but you see, I will never die.” 

Less than five minutes later he left the house without a backward glance. The spell he put on his uncle was simple, really. Anyone smart enough to know where to look could figure it out. Harry looked at the Gaunt house in disgust. His real Grandfather had deserved better than to live in such a hovel. He kissed the ring he had removed from his uncle’s possession. Slytherin would be proud, he though, before apparrating back to school.

HDHDHD

Harry’s eyes snapped open. 

He was lying on something soft, but the room was so dark and shadowed he almost tried to reopen his eyes. His heart was racing, the adrenaline left over from the memory singing through his veins. 

“Harry, are you awake?”

Draco. Turning his head, Harry saw the blond sitting on a chair near the bed. Bed. He was lying on a bed. Where the Hell was he? “We’re at Snape’s house, Harry. It was closer than the school.” Oh. Had he asked that out loud? “Harry?” Draco. Draco leaning over him. Harry’s hands shot out so fast he had the blond on the bed and beneath him before his squeak of shock even registered.

Harry was burning. He had so much fire in his veins he would surely explode if he didn’t get it out. Without a second thought he crashed his mouth down on Draco’s. He didn’t ask permission, he took it. Almost brutally he sucked on Draco’s bottom lip, nibbling hard enough to make the other boy groan. Swiping his tongue over his lip to soothe, Harry immediately swept inside Draco’s mouth. Angrily, his hands roved down Draco’s chest, ripping aside his robes, even as his mouth sucked the moans and whimpers from the blond’s mouth. Harry vaguely heard buttons pop as he ripped at Draco’s shirt, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Finally, the shirt was gone and Harry could feel Draco’s smooth skin under his hands. He groaned at the pleasure as Draco mewled and leaned into his touch. “Harry…” 

He ran kisses down Draco’s jaw, his fingers busily stroking the pale nipples beneath him. Draco was almost helplessly moving beneath him, moaning and whimpering his pleasure as he arched his neck for Harry to suck harder. God he loved the taste of Draco. His scent was teasing him, driving him further away from control. He bit down hard on Draco’s neck, almost drawing blood. Draco cried out, nails digging into Harry’s flesh, as Harry roughly pressed himself down on Draco, grinding their pelvises together, glorying in the friction. Harry barely had a moment to gasp at the pleasure coursing through him before Draco growled and flipped him over.

The breath whooshed out of his lungs as his back hit the mattress. He gasped, all the invitation Draco needed, and suddenly their tongues were at war, battling each other for control of the kiss. Draco spread Harry’s legs and settled between them, bringing their groins even closer together. He was doing this wonderful circular grind against him, making Harry fleetingly bless whoever created jeans capable of generating so much friction. Harry speared his hands in Draco’s head, yanking his head back to plunder his neck again. And they both froze.

“Do you honestly think,” a cold voice from behind them asked rhetorically, “that I brought you two stupid boys to my home so you could do THAT on MY bed.”

Harry would have answered, he was sure of it. Something snappy. Unfortunately, Snape’s spell still had them frozen, so neither Harry nor Draco could respond. Levitating Draco away from the bed, Snape stuck him in the corner. And added ropes for good measure. And a silencing spell. Then he turned back to the bed. Harry felt his face reheat again, as the pleasure was quickly replaced with mortification. He really wasn’t surprised when translucent wires wrapped around the bed, imprisoning him within. Suddenly he could move again. He looked over at Draco – mouth swollen, shirt ripped, face flushed, and screaming like a banshee behind his prison of silence. He tried to add his own scathing commentary, but Snape had apparently added a silencing spell on him as well. 

Fucking Snape. 

“Are you calmer now?” Harry nodded resentfully at Snape. Why had he ever liked this man? Who cared if he saved his life if he was determined to ruin it the first chance he got. 

“Why am I here?” he asked abruptly.

Looking up, he caught the look between Draco and Snape and his eyes narrowed. “Harry,” Snape began, sounding like a teacher talking to a very slow child, “at the house, when you touched the stone…” Snape eyed him warily, “you went into convulsions. By the time you stopped… well, when we first touched you… you opened your eyes and said you were going to kill us. Then you went limp again.” Snape frowned at the wall, for all the world as if the wood was the bane of his existence. “I didn’t know if it would be safe to apparrate you a long distance, so I brought you here.” 

Harry looked over at Draco. He desperately wanted to hold him close, and breathe away the lingering tension in his gut. As though recognizing the change in desire, Snape muttered under his breath and released the confinements. Draco fairly flew to Harry’s side, clutching him close. Finally, Harry felt safe. Quickly, as though to dwell on it would lead to a repeat memory, Harry told them everything he remembered of his memory. They were all quiet as they processed it.

“Sir?” Harry questioned suddenly. “Where’s the stone?” 

Snape looked at him again, this time contemplatively. “Still in your pocket, Harry. You released your grip on it shortly after you went limp. It seems safe… enough… now.”

Harry plunged his hand into his pocket, ignoring Draco’s moan of protest. There is was. Cool, smooth, and pulsing. It seemed to possess life. In that moment, Harry knew why Dumbledore thought putting it on would bring back his sister. Harry harbored no such illusions. Still gazing at the stone, Harry asked, almost as absently as Luna would have, “sir?” What do you know about blood curses?”

HDHDHD

Safely tucked away in her room at Hogwarts, Narcissa finished her letter with a flourish. Calling for an elf, she waited patiently until an owl was brought to her. Carefully, she attached her letter.

“Fly swiftly. This must reach its destination by tomorrow.”

She stared out the window long after the last speck of the owl was visible.


	12. Repercussions - Take 1

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

After the events of the previous day, Harry thought he was beyond surprise. That is, he reflected, until he obeyed the summons to Dumbledore’s office and saw his aunt sipping nervously at tea while Fawkes sat regally on the back of her chair. 

“Aunt Petunia?”

She jerked at the sound of his voice and stared at him for a moment. Harry didn’t know what shocked him more – seeing her in the Headmaster’s office, or having her run to his side and fling herself around his neck. Awkwardly petting her head – hey, it worked for Hermione – he wrapped his other arm around her waist and waited until she stopped shaking to try again. “Umm… what’s going on?”

“Harry,” Dumbledore said quietly. Do you remember telling Madame Pomphrey about a vision concerning your relatives?”

Did he? Frankly no. “When you fell down the stairs, Harry.” He turned to see Hermione and Ron enter the office, looks of cautious sympathy on their face. “You told us about it when you woke up the next morning in the hospital.” He had? He didn’t remember that. He simply remembered feeling loved and cherished and safe. Naturally, that memory had to be tainted too. 

He turned back to Dumbledore, but didn’t quite know what to ask. “Harry, please be seated.” Dumbledore looked tired. “Lemon Drop?” 

The Order had almost been in time to stop the attack. The wards around his house were such that no non approved magical essence could cross. He knew this. He’d had to leave his house to go to Narcissa during the summer. Death Eaters had caught Uncle Vernon before he came home from work and placed him under Imperius. Unfortunately, the wards recognized the tingle of magic on Vernon and would not allow him entrance. Vernon began calling for Dudley and Petunia to come out. Petunia recognized the apparel of the Death Eaters and tried to stop her son from crossing the invisible border of protection. Once Vernon began screaming, writhing under the pain of the curses cast upon him, Dudley tried to intervene. They’d cast the Cruciatus curse on Dudley, and slashing curses in order to watch him bleed. Somehow Petunia had managed to drag her son back into the yard, only to watch them kill Vernon in front of her.

Vernon was dead, and Dudley was in St. Mungo’s. This would be the second Christmas he had at age fifteen, and it too would be spent visiting family in the hospital. Harry felt numb. He couldn’t deal with this right now. Not today. He had to be strong today. Dimly, he heard himself telling Ron to fetch Sirius, and the sound of his feet racing off to comply. Absently, he patted his aunt while he assured her Sirius was not, in fact, a Muggle or wizard murderer, but one of the few people he trusted to keep her safe while he was away. Vaguely, he heard several pairs of feet thundering into the office. The minute he saw Sirius, he practically shoved Petunia into his arms and walked out the door.

“Harry?” Pansy’s voice was quiet and laced with sympathy.

“Not now,” he said flatly. “We need to get to Diagon Alley.”

“Harry?”

“Ron, not now.”

Blaise put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Harry instinctively tensed for him to open his mouth. “So, Weasley, where’s your sister?” Harry wanted to hug Blaise for changing the subject. Right then, he loved the boy more than Draco. Well, maybe not, he corrected as the blond in question slid his arm around Harry’s waist. 

“Ginny? Who knows. I don’t really spend much time hanging all over my sister.”

“No,” Blaise’s smile was wicked. “But I do.”

Harry let them bicker their way out the castle and to the gates. When he saw Narcissa and Snape waiting for them, Harry surprised them both by stepping into Snape’s arms instead of merely hanging onto the man’s arm for apparrating. Snape glanced at Harry’s face, but made no comment as his arms wrapped around Harry and Draco protectively. Harry dimly heard the others arrange themselves on the two adults, before they disapparrated with a snap. 

HDHDHD

Harry was startled out of his self-imposed isolation when Bill Weasley came striding out of Gringott’s to meet them. He’d forgotten Bill was a curse breaker. Grinning, he stepped forward to give his adopted brother a fierce hug. “Bill! I’ve really missed you! Didn’t see you last time I was here.”

Bill looked at Harry oddly. “I thought Mum bought your school supplies this year. When were you last here?”

Whoops. He wasn’t. Lucius Malfoy was. “Err… my mistake. Have you met my friends?” Not the smoothest transition, but, hey, Harry had never been one for small talk. He was saved from further stilted conversation when Draco abruptly yanked him back by his side. He glanced at the blond curiously. Why was he glaring at Bill like that? Oh well, at least Bill seems amused. 

Introductions and formalities out of the way, they trooped inside. Outside the door where the Board of Directors waited, Bill paused and looked to Harry, a look of unease on his face. He remembered the conversation Bill had with him that day in his cottage by the sea. During those awful days after he’d buried Dobby and grilled Griphook and Ollivander. More memories to make him shudder. “Bill, I know,” he interrupted. “The goblins are a sneaky lot out for their own self preservation. I’ll be honest and careful in how I word my requests.” Bill looked rather startled at Harry’s flat explanation, but turned to knock on the door after one last look at Harry’s face. 

All in all, Harry really didn’t have to say much. Between Narcissa, Draco, Pansy, Hermione, and Snape, the conversation was skillfully manipulated and volleyed around. Harry looked over to Ron at one point, and they exchanged equally baffled shrugs. Harry knew he really should take more of an active interest in the proceedings, but his mind was still reeling from this morning. His uncle was dead and his cousin was in St. Mungo’s. Harry squeezed his eyes shut. It had to be bad to wind Dudley in a magical hospital. 

So many emotions were rising inside of him Harry felt like he was going to explode. He had to fight the sudden urge to stand up and scream, or lean over and punch someone. Anything to relieve this awful pressure. He’d never liked his uncle, no joke about it, but he’d never wanted the man dead. Never. And Dudley… Harry had to violently blink away tears as a memory that hadn’t happened yet flashed through his head – “I don’t think you’re a waste of space.” As kids they had hated each other, but when Harry had been removed from the protection of the Dursley’s that last time, a connection had formed between them. Indeed, during the two visits he’d made to his relatives house after the war, they had all managed to converse fairly well. Aunt Petunia had loved Draco, Harry recalled. Oh God, Aunt Petunia. She didn’t deserve to watch her husband murdered in front of her, or her son, her baby, be tortured. Harry hadn’t thought to question how someone as frail and delicate as Petunia had managed to drag her solid son onto the yard and away from the Death Eaters. Then again, Harry was living proof of the indomitable and tangible force of a mother’s love. 

Oh God it hurt to feel this way. And the guilt – he’d forgotten about his vision. Forgotten all about Voldemort threatening to send Nagini after Dudley. He should have done something, flown to the Dursley’s. Removed them from the house. Harry absently rubbed his hand over his heart, barely noticing the swift look of concern Draco shot him or the feel of the boy’s hand rubbing circles on his back. Harry couldn’t handle feeling this much – he rather wished he was Ron right then, with the emotional range of a teaspoon. How can that thought make him smile when he felt like this?

Harry blinked as he felt that familiar cool hand slide into his. Then he was on his feet, briskly calling out goodbyes and shaking hands. He had not the faintest idea why a Goblin representative would contact him in three days, and he really didn’t care. Truth be told, he couldn’t really remember why he was here in the first place. Ah well, Hermione would fill him in later.

As though sensing his dread at returning to the castle, the others decided to do a bit of shopping before they left. Harry headed over to Fortesque’s for ice cream. He did not want to shop. He wanted to sit somewhere quiet and remember happier days – like third year when he was given free ice-cream and help with his homework. Treated like family, almost, or a close friend. That had been nice. Surprisingly it was Narcissa who stayed with him, shooing the others away with a dismissive wave and an intimidating look. Harry thought resignedly that he would be yelled at for his obvious inattention during his meeting with the goblins, but instead Narcissa pulled him to her side and gently stroked his hair while he ate his ice-cream.

Harry was able to produce a genuine smile by the time they were all ready to return to school.

HDHDHD

Walking up to the school from the gates Harry was feeling almost cheerful. Aunt Petunia would come to Malfoy Manor and stay with them, of course, and he wouldn’t be alone when he went to visit his cousin. Suddenly feeling a giddy rush of expectation over Draco’s reaction to the present Harry had bought him, he had to fight the urge to skip. He settled for breathing deeply instead. Harry savored the brisk taste of snow, the wet muskiness of the few remaining leaves, and the coppery sweetness of blood. Wait. What?

Jerking his head around, Harry searched frantically, not noticing the cautious looks the others were sending him. Out of all the years he had been hurt, Harry knew the smell of blood. It was permanently ingrained into every fiber of his body – sometimes he could even taste it in his nightmares. But where… there! Over by Hagrid’s hut. Telling himself it was nothing; Hagrid was preparing food for the Thestral’s, maybe, Harry raced towards the smell. The others followed. He was vaguely aware of Snape and Narcissa pulling their wands as they too recognized the smell. They rounded the last bend in the path. And froze.

Pretty, Harry thought disjointedly. It was rather pretty almost. There, floating in mid air, maybe two or three feet off the ground, was Neville Longbottom. He was naked with his limbs spread apart, as though invisible manacles were chained to his wrists and ankles. There was blood everywhere, so much blood. It dripped down his head, past his blankly staring eyes, over his torso and legs, and dripped straight through the green stuff to pool underneath his body. Green stuff?

Harry looked closer. No, not green stuff. Miniature Dark Mark’s. Ten of them, forming a circle around Neville’s body. Almost like a wreath. “Neville…” His name was a hoarse whisper ripped from Harry’s throat. Ignoring the screaming, the shouting, the sound of sobs, it was as if the sound of his voice was once again the key to activate some hidden message. Mere seconds after Harry spoke, golden words shimmered in the air to the right of Neville, encased in a rectangular box and clinging to one of the Dark Mark’s. Almost like a gift tag, Harry thought almost hysterically. Only one sentence was written, but it was enough to make Harry’s heart freeze.

Happy Christmas, Harry Potter.

Happy Christmas. Happy Christmas. It repeated over and over in his head even as he stared at Neville’s bloody and broken body. Even as Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin carefully lowered Neville’s body from his charmed prison. He was not aware of the rush of noise around him, the body’s flocking around as the teachers responded to Snape’s hastily conjured Patronus and poured out of the school. 

Even as Madame Pomphrey led the group of kids to the hospital and forced Dreamless Sleep Potion down their throats, Harry could not stop seeing Neville’s body as it hung there, lifeless and frozen and bleeding. Despite the potion, Harry woke up screaming. Everyone else was sleeping still; grateful for the potion that helped them forget, if only temporarily, the harsh reality of war. Harry hesitated only briefly, trembling in his hospital bed, – he was so so cold – before crawling into bed with Draco, letting his loves warmth seem through the ice in his veins. As he lay there, sleepless, that long long night, a thought suddenly occurred to him.

Hadn’t Neville been with Ginny?


	13. There And Back

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

Ginny was cold.

Through the waves of pain that radiated every time she moved, the fact that she was cold gave her the strength to resist the allure of sleep. Must not sleep… never safe to show an enemy weakness. Hadn’t Hermione said that was the lesson she partook from impersonating Narcissa that day in class? Must show an unflappable façade. It seemed to work, as the Slytherin… Nicholas… gave up on torturing her and instead sat watching her cell with a look of bored indifference. Good. Let him think she was broken and weak. It would be that much more satisfying to spit in his ugly face as she marched out the door.

Well, if there was a door that is.

Carefully not moving her body, allowing her breathing to remain slow and deep, Ginny scanned the perimeter with her eyes again. Thank God she had grown up in her family. One did not spend time with a Dragon tamer, curse breaker, incorrigible pranksters, and adventure seeking older brothers without developing an iron will. Well, except for Percy. But he really didn’t count. The miserable git. When they had taken Neville away, she had seen a section of wall shimmer, allowing them to step through and leave before solidifying once again. There! By the candle sconce in the wall. Really, how trite. You would think they would pick a less obvious prop. Ah well, no one said having pure blood was an indication of intelligence.

She made sure her hair hid her face as the wall shimmered again.

Lucius Malfoy. Good God, seriously?? After everything Narcissa and Draco had done to help Harry, Malfoy was the one to do this to her? Wait, no... He looked rather sick at the sight of her. He was talking to someone. Carefully, Ginny angled her head slightly further to the left to hear better.

“… Meaning of this, Parkinson?” Hmm, wonder if Lucius was aware of how aggravated he sounded. He really could take lessons from Narcissa. 

“Just a little present for Potter, my friend. Already returned one of them,” he snickered. What? What had they done to Neville? Ginny bit back a whimper of fear. “Still not sure what to do with this one. Perhaps I’ll present her to the Dark Lord as a Christmas treat.” What? Ok, good to know: must escape before Christmas.

Ginny shivered lightly. Looking up, she stared into gray eyes. Funny, she mused, as expressionless as his face is; his eyes are really quite expressive. Maybe because she was so used to Draco by this point. She had very nearly forgiven Harry for falling for the vapid self-centered blond instead of choosing her vivaciously wonderful self. Hey, she did say nearly forgave. 

Lucius stared directly at Ginny as he spoke to Parkinson. “I must go. I shall return tomorrow, and we will discuss this… inconvenience. Do not inform the Dark Lord of his intended… present until the plans are finalized.” He was still staring at Ginny. Perhaps offering her comfort or reassurance? Taking a chance, Ginny nodded at him almost imperceptibly. He raised an eyebrow in response. So… was that a yes? God she hoped so. As brave and indomitable a spirit she had, life would be so much easier to deal with if someone offered her assistance. 

“Sir,” the young voice was eager. “Sir? I brought the two here! I figured out which of Harry’s friends were weaker and persuaded them away from the castle.” Weak? Obviously this idiot did NOT know the Weasley family.

Lucius looked at Nicholas coldly. “Well done,” he said in a voice that clearly indicated the exact opposite. Ginny had to bite her lip to stop a smirk. Lucius nodded once again to Parkinson. “Tomorrow.” He swept away without a backward glance.

Ginny whimpered as he left; she couldn’t help it. The air suddenly seemed twenty degree colder. She tuned out Nicholas as his attention returned to her in renewed jeers, forcing her body to remain motionless and her breathing even so he would merely think she was crying out in her sleep. Even as he grew bored and Parkinson left yet again, Ginny plotted.

And she would definitely kick Nicholas in his smug face on her way out.

HDHDHD

Narcissa was cold. 

She didn’t know if Neville and Ginny had been part of the original history for certain, but the looks on Harry and Hermione’s face were quite enough to tell her no. Even as she sat with Ron’s head in her lap, absently stroking the bright red waves, while Hermione leaned on her shoulder, she watched Harry closely. He looked sad and mutinous. As she continued comforting the two children, she hoped her son was strong enough to talk Harry out of whatever revenge plans were swirling in his head and make him refocus.

Now, more than ever, it was critical they move onto Stage 5.

“Harry,” she started calmly, keeping her face serene and composed as he turned to look at her with bright green eyes radiating with pain. “I find it rather odd that all this time you have yet to ask me what made me decide to help you.” 

She waited as her words sunk in. Hermione stiffened from her perch on her arm. Smart girl, Narcissa thought with approval. Ron kept his head in her lap, but turned to look up at her even as Draco’s eyes narrowed and Harry frowned. “Well,” Harry began uncertainly. “I guess I never really thought about it. I mean... you were just always there…”

“I was there,” she interrupted, “in your future. Not your present.” 

Draco stiffened. “Future?” He looked suspiciously between Harry and Hermione, obviously struggling to connect some intangible thoughts in his head. Even Ron looked slightly alarmed at that, his frown deepening.

Narcissa ignored these reactions, focusing exclusively on the green eyes looking so warily back at her. “Memories,” she said simply. “I viewed memories. Several too personal to mention at present, but one in particular stood out.” She took a deep breath, forcing herself to continue now that she had started.

“Harry,” she had to be diplomatic. “Two days ago I mailed a letter to Phinneas.” They all looked at her blankly. Really now, Narcissa though, biting back a sigh. “Phinneas is the prince of the Woodland Elves.” She waited. When Draco’s eyes widened in understanding, Narcissa had to work to stop the beaming smile from crossing her face. Really, could any mother’s son be more handsome and smart?

“We are going to make an alliance with the elves?” Even as Draco questioned, he was nodding as puzzle pieces fell into place. Harry looked a little startled at this, and Narcissa watched as Draco tilted Harry’s face to his. “We are going to make an alliance, and have them monitor the Forbidden Forest. Have the elves befriend the magical creatures within, and offer another layer of protection.”

Harry froze; you could almost see the wheels turning in his head Narcissa thought in amusement. He turned back to Narcissa. “When’s the meeting? Is it just with you and me?”

A howl of outrage met that question. Ron jerked his head off Narcissa’s lap and yanked Harry to his feet while Hermione slapped Harry upside the back of his head. Both of them were yelling about how Harry was not alone and needed to remember to rely on his friends. Quite an inappropriate display of emotion, Narcissa thought; even as her son shot to his feet and started yelling at Ron, pulling him away from Harry. She would give them one minute to calm themselves.

They all yelped and jumped away from each other, rubbing their wrists as the Stinging Hex faded. Harry looked a little betrayed by her actions. Well, really, he must learn to control himself.

“Harry, if your little friends would like to accompany you, they may.” The others grinned as Harry scowled and opened his mouth to protest, Narcissa continued calmly on. “However, I must stay behind this time. You will be going with Sirius, and you leave in twenty minutes.”

Immediately, four heads began whispering together. All were distracted when the door was unceremoniously flung open and Snape marched in. “Potter,” he bit out. Narcissa thought it rather telling that Snape reverted back to Harry’s surname only when his emotions were raised. “I need to borrow your cloak.”

Harry looked rather shifty, striving to look cautiously confused. “Cloak, Sir?” Really, as if Harry could hope to pull off a voice that innocent. 

Apparently, Snape agreed. His eyes narrowed. “Yes, Potter,” he said silkily. “The Invisibility Cloak you and your annoying friends use to skulk about in matters that are not your concern. I need that cloak, I need it now, and I need you to shut the hell up and get it.”

Harry looked properly cowed. “Yes Sir.” Narcissa had always respected anyone who could demand that much obedience without ever once raising his voice. If only Lucius could learn that trick. 

HDHDHD

Sirius was excited.

He loved adventure of any sort, especially when the opportunity to make mischief or be placed in situation of mortal peril was involved. To him, following an Elvin map through the Forbidden Forest constituted an adventure of epic proportions. Too bad his Godson didn’t seem to relish the same feelings, he thought, glancing over to where Harry was frowning over the parchment.

“Sup, Little Prongy?” Harry glared at him over the nickname. Sirius grinned back.

“Well, Big Paddy,” Draco snorted at that as Ron laughed out loud and Hermione made an odd choking noise. Sirius scowled. Harry grinned, looking smug. Damn, guess the boy is more like his father that he thought. “What’s up is this printing at the bottom of the page.”

“Let me see,” Hermione said. She frowned as Harry passed over the paper, reading the words out loud. “Only those that pass the test – avoiding the temptation of distraction and rest – will find themselves in a situation where pressed – will eliminate the weak from the worthy and best. Hmm… creative.”

“It rhymes,” Ron said stupidly, frowning as he mulled over the words.

Hermione shot him a withering glare. “Very good Ronald.”

Hmm… “Sounds like something the marauders would do,” Sirius offered, remembering past escapades. Damn, those were the good old days. 

Hermione stopped dead. “Exactly,” she breathed. She turned and gripped Harry’s arm. “Harry we have to be careful. Obviously they’re not just going to allow us to see them. We have to earn the right.” Harry, Ron, and Draco looked rather anxious at the thought. “I wonder what it could be…” Hermione absently handed the map back to Harry as she mulled this over. 

They hadn’t been walking for more than ten minutes when they walked into a field of flowers. Beautiful, sweet smelling flowers. The dog inside Sirius gave a whine of delight, and Sirius immediately transformed in order to scamper about. The others laughed to see Sirius so lighthearted and carefree. 

Ron looked over and saw some beautiful brownish gold flowers that reminded him of Hermione’s hair. Stooping to pick one up, he tucked it behind her ear. “It reminds me of you,” he said simply, turning brick red when she beamed and kissed him. 

They were all laughing as they walked, the scent of flowers making them giddy. Harry was grinning at Draco dopily when he noticed Sirius change back into a man, stretch deeply, and yawn. “Hey Harry,” he called out, lying down on a perfumed bed of flowers, “let’s say we rest here a bit.”

Harry frowned, glancing down at the map. He really wanted to get this done and over with. Before he could reply, Ron piped up. “Yeah, Harry,” he yawned as well, tugging Hermione down to the ground with him, “I feel like I’ve been bitten by the sand man or something. Just a few minutes, then we’ll go on, k?”

Draco snorted, gazing down at them with his arms crossed arrogantly over his chest. “Bitten by the sandman? That’s about as nonsensical as Luna telling me to avoid Flea Bitten Nifflers in flowers.”

Harry turned sharply to Draco. “What did you say?”

Draco looked uncertainly at Harry’s intent face. “Nothing. It’s just one day I ran into Luna in the dungeon. She started rambling about Venomous something-or-the-other, and then told me to always check for Flea Bitten Nifflers before smelling flowers. Why? It’s nothing, really. Right?”

Harry looked around. Sirius, who had been cavorting in the flowers, was sound asleep. Hermione, who had the brown flower tucked in her hair, was asleep as well, while Ron, who had touched and was now lying in the flowers, was half asleep and singly softly under his breath. “The test,” he breathed.

He turned to Draco, who was just bending to examine a shiny gray and green flower. “STOP!” he yelled. He felt bad when Draco jumped and jerked violently away from the flower. 

“What? What is it?” Draco had his wand pulled in a flash and was looking around wildly.

“The test. The flowers are the test. Don’t smell the flowers!

Draco looked at Harry like he was insane. “Flowers? Flowers are the test? Hmm…” he looked around dubiously. “Hey, where’d Sirius go?”

Spinning around Harry looked for Sirius to no avail. The flowers where he had been lying didn’t even look crushed. “Ron,” he started, turning further, just as Hermione’s bushy brown hair disappeared underneath the earth. He stared.

“Harry?” Draco’s voice was casual and polite. “Did Granger just sink into the ground?”

“Err… I think so.” They looked at each other in slight panic, before turning in unison and hurrying on. “Wait,” he stopped Draco with a hand on his arm. “Do you think we should turn around and go back? Maybe this isn’t such a smart idea.”

The choice was taken from them with the arrival of a ripping noise. Turning, they saw the path behind them whirling as though caught up in a hurricane. Trees were ripped from the earth, flowers torn asunder, but instead of being tossed into the whip of wind, they sunk down into nothing. A black ravine that had appeared out of nowhere. And was inching closer and closer to Harry and Draco.

“Run!” Draco yelled. Gripping each others hand desperately, they sprinted away from the precipice behind them. Crashing through the underbrush they tried to outrace the howling noise behind them. Straight to the edge of a cliff. They stared down at the frothing water below them before turning to glance at the maelstrom at their back. 

Draco lunged forward and grabbed Harry in a desperate kiss. Still clutching each other in a fierce embrace, they jumped. 

Cold, Harry thought, even as he tightened his hold on Draco. So cold.

HDHDHD

Ginny loved the world. Loved it!

Dancing lightly around her cell, she giggled to herself that she probably should not have eaten the food brought to her. But after two days of captivity, she had been so hungry! She was pretty sure her captives had slipped something in her food, but right now she really couldn’t see why. She loved being here! “Nicholas,” she purred, batting her eyes at the smirking boy standing guard, “you look so handsome with your hair like that.”

Nicholas grinned at her but said nothing back. Ginny beamed – these people were so nice! It reminded her of a Muggle movie she had watched while visiting Colin Creevey last summer. What was it again? Swaying absently as she thought of the movie… something about men… Ginny was pleasantly distracted when the wall shimmered and Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, and Gilbert Parkinson walked in. 

“Hello!” She called out, welcoming them into the room with a royally elegant wave of her hand. Parkinson snorted while Snape and Malfoy stared at her. What? Her mother had taught her manners! Her attention caught on Snape – he really reminded her of a character from that movie. What was it?!

Lost in thought, Ginny tuned out the fighting in front of her and concentrated. She barely blinked when curses started flying or when Lupin ripped off an invisibility cloak and joined in. It was only when Snape was standing directly in front of her that she registered the confrontation was over.

“Time to go, Miss Weasley,” Snape drawled out. He looked rather tired. Had it been hard rescuing her? Wanting to thank him she lunged into his arms.

Lupin was laughing at Snape. Turning to the sound, arms still clasped around Snape, Ginny beamed. “Oh Moony! I am so glad you finally found someone that makes you so happy!” Hmm… was Lucius ok? His face was rather red. Ginny was going to comment when the movie line she was thinking of popped into her head. Ecstatic, she tightened her arms around Snape and began to sing. “We’re men, we’re manly men! Men in tights – tight – tights!”

Snape obviously liked her singing because he’d stopped talking and was gaping at her with an expression akin to shock. She smiled at him, standing on her tip toes and leaning forward to kiss his cheek, “welcome to the family Snape! I like your name, you know. Snape Snape Snape. I also like it when you talk really low and angry. Will you talk like that now?” She looked at him expectantly. Aw… Moony must really love Snape, he was laughing even harder now. 

“MISS WEASLEY!”

“No,” Ginny frowned, “too loud.”

Tossing her over his shoulder – Ginny giggled again – Snape turned to converse with Moony and Lucius. Ginny absently started singing “A Cauldron Full of Love” and ignored them all. Shortly before Snape prepared to apparrate her back to Hogwarts – although, honestly, she felt fine. Brilliant, even. She certainly did not need the hospital wing – Ginny saw a familiar face standing in the doorway.

“Pansy!” She beamed a welcome to the girl and would have waved except Snape turned so fast Ginny’s head began doing the most amazing flips ever. 

“Daddy…” She barely processed Pansy’s anguished whisper, or Lucius muttering he would take the girl – wait, wasn’t Snape taking her? Oh, right, Pansy – before they disappeared in a whirl.

HDHDHD

The first thing Harry noted when he woke up, was how incredibly right it felt to wake up with Draco sprawled half on top of him, his silky hair pressed against Harry’s nose. In fact, Harry mused as he stretched languidly, it would be the perfect wake up ever if the men surrounding them weren’t carrying bows and arrows. He snuggled deeper into Draco.

Wait… what!

Harry shot up, ignoring the irritated mumbling from Draco and looked around. They were in a clearing of some sort – definitely not still at Hogwarts. Surrounding them were twelve men with pointy ears watching expectantly. Harry smiled nervously, slightly soothed when they all smiled back.

“Harry, what the fuck? I was having such a good dream.” Draco sat up and glared at Harry. Reaching over to smack him on the arm when his complaint was largely ignored. 

“I would have smacked him too,” a soft voice offered. Draco turned and smiled at the man. Finally, intelligent life! Draco did a double take as he focused on his surroundings. 

“Umm… Harry? I know your friends tend to be slightly more… diverse… than mine. Still, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

Harry glanced helplessly at Draco before climbing to his feet. Draco mimicked him, and they stood there facing what Harry believed to be an Elvin guard of sorts. Harry had the distinct impression they were waiting on him to say something. “Err…” Smooth, Harry. Very smooth. “Hello, I’m Harry Potter, and this is my… ummm… my boyfriend Draco Malfoy.” Well, at least it was a cohesive sentence. “Err… do you know where my friends are?”

The Elves smiled, inclining their head respectfully at his introduction, and ignoring his question outright. Well, really now. This was becoming a bit annoying. Maybe they should just leave. 

“You may not leave until business is concluded.” The Elf spoke softly, moving forward smoothly, as though a branch rippling in the breeze. Harry started as the Elf appeared to pluck the question from his head. Wasn’t that bad manners or… something? “You do not close your mind,” the Elf answered simply. 

Harry was becoming rather annoyed at the vagueness of this interaction. “You do not ask the right questions.” What the Hell kind of response was that? Come on; let’s just get this over with. “Indeed.” 

Huh, well apparently that was the right thought, he mused, as the elves turned and walked deeper into the forest. Shrugging, Harry and Draco followed. 

He hoped there would be food. He was rather hungry. 

HDHDHD

Apparrating into Malfoy Manor, Lucius irritably shoved a shocked Pansy Parkinson into the arms of a startled Charlie Weasley. Well, served the idiot right for dallying about in the parlor instead of remaining in the dungeons where he belonged. 

Instructing Charlie to get Hestia and care for the girl, he quickly explained the basics. Ginny was safe, Pansy’s father and a Slytherin kid were dead, and now he needed to go cover his tracks. 

He hoped he could contain the situation before the Dark Lord found out two of his followers were dead.


	14. Emotional Alliances

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

Draco scowled as he marched along by Harry’s side.

It wasn’t that he particularly minded being frightened half to death, watching his almost friends get sucked into the earth, running for his life, or jumping off a cliff into a raging rapid. No, that was fine. He was a Malfoy, he knew how to adapt. No, what really pissed him off was the fact that Harry had hesitated before calling him his boyfriend. What did he think he was? His fairy Godmother? Worse, Harry didn’t seem to realize he’d made any sort of error. Could he possibly be that ignorant? He glared at the messy haired boy marching besides him. Well, yes, actually, he could. 

“Draco?” Ha! Five minutes of walking in silence before he notices. Bloody ignorant savage. “You ok? Look, I’m sorry… I didn’t think today would end up quite so… well, quite so like this.”

“Really?” Draco questioned starkly. “Were you, perhaps, hoping someone else would be here with you? That I would be the one to get pulled into a comatose sleep and you would be able to continue on with your precious Granger?” Even as he ranted, his arm shot out to prevent Harry tripping over a root. “Or maybe you were hoping not to introduce me at all?” He grabbed Harry’s arm to pull him away from the precariously balanced pile of rocks that seemed to spring up out of nowhere. “Practically maul me to death in front of my Godfather,” he held up a branch for Harry to walk under, “and you can barely admit to knowing me in public!”

“That’s not how it is at all!” Harry protested angrily, pulling his wand to banish the spider attempting to bond with Draco’s hair. “I didn’t know if you would want me to announce to strangers the status of our relationship!” Harry jumped down a small incline, turning to help Draco down as well. “I love you. You know I love you.” He kicked the loose stones out of his way so Draco wouldn’t trip. “You’re the one who refuses to announce your feelings for me!” They held hands to brace each other against the current as they crossed a river. “And I didn’t maul you,” Harry sounded hurt, even as he reached down to help Draco up a hill. “I thought you liked what we did!”

Draco flushed. “I did,” he snapped, detangling Harry’s cloak from a briar patch before it tore. “But that was days ago and we have barely spoken to each other since!”

“And that’s my fault?” Harry sounded angry as he passed Draco a canteen to drink. 

“Yes!” Draco knew he was unfair, but he couldn’t help this feeling any more than he could stop himself passing Harry an apple.

“Perhaps it is no one’s fault?”

“BUTT OUT!” They turned in unison to glare at the intruder briefly before turning back to each other. Draco was really angry now, as he added fighting in front of an unknown audience to Harry’s List of Faults. He had started the mental list when he was thirteen, and added to it daily even as he crossed others off.

“You two work well together. Very complimentary – light and dark.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he mumbled, grabbing his Harry’s arm to yank him out of the way of a spell.

“Yeah, like Draco would ever admit we’re good together.” Harry glared back at Draco before he petrified the tree that was attempting to bite the blond.

“You do realize, of course, that I have put you two through an obstacle course. While neither of you acknowledged my attempt, you managed to avoid every trap successfully by working together?”

At this, Harry and Draco turned to the speaker. Rather than the Elvin guard they were expecting, a lone man stood leaning on a tree, watching the squabbling duo with interest. Dark hairs, flowing halfway down his back, dark eyes, muscular build. The man looked like a tree pretending to be a man. Once he noticed he had their attention, he smiled. “Prince Phinneas,” he greeted. “Pleasure to meet you, Harry and Draco. I must admit, I thought you would be arriving the same way as your friends.”

“Are they all right?” Harry stepped forward sounding anxious. Draco rolled his eyes. Excellent negotiation skills Potter.

Phinneas smiled again. “Let’s do business.”

HDHDHD

Voldemort was not a nice man.

One would think, after all the work he had done to maintain his immortality, all the innocence he had stolen, the lives he destroyed, and the pain he inflicted, that this fact would be common knowledge. However, as he gazed at the man kneeling before him, he could not help but wonder where the confusion came from. “Tell me,” he hissed out, enjoying the way the man trembled. “Do you find it amusing to inform your Lord that two of my followers are missing? Did you think, perhaps, I would enjoy knowing Harry Potter remains safely under the protection of his deranged headmaster, while I sit here alone?”

“No…no, my Lord.” The man was practically crying in his sincerity. 

He gazed at the cowering man before him. “Wormtail,” he began abruptly. “Three times of late you have knelt before me. Three times you have displeased me with your news. I am giving you one last chance for redemption.” Wormtail looked up at this news, pathetically eager to escape death. “You will bring me Harry Potter by Christmas.” Wormtail went white. Voldemort enjoyed the increase in fear for a moment before continuing. “”You will bring me Harry Potter. Or, you will die.”

“Ye – Yes, My Lord.” Hastily, Wormtail kissed the robes In front of him before backing away, trembling with mixed emotions. He started running the minute he left the room. Voldemort listened to the sound of his feet scurrying down the hall. He almost wished Wormtail failed in this mission. He was rather fun to punish.

“Lucius?”

“My Lord?”

“Still no word on Parkinson or the Thompson boy?”

Lucius sighed. “No my Lord. No word, no sign, nothing. I went to the Parkinson house myself, but there are no signs of struggle.”

“Lucius?”

“My Lord?”

“Your son is at Hogwarts as well?” Lucius nodded slowly. Always a good sign when his minions showed consideration in their responses, Voldemort thought. “Very good. Have him discover Thompson’s last whereabouts.” Lucius nodded again with a murmured acceptance. “And Lucius? He is to help Wormtail. I want your son to become close to Harry Potter. Close enough that he can convince him to leave the security of the castle. Is this understood?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Voldemort nodded. “Excellent.” He was back on track.

HDHDHD

Charlie Weasley only had one sister.

Never before had this fact brought him such a feeling of gratitude and frustration. Gratitude that he didn’t have to deal with these continuously changing mood swings; and frustration because if he had learned how to deal with hysterical women by now, he could handle Pansy Parkinson. Well, he thought so anyway.

“I mean, I knew he was bad,” Pansy paced in front of the fireplace. “Everyone knew he was bad. And that his work was dangerous.” Her face fell and she flung herself into Charlie’s arms. He patted her back absently. Suddenly she pulled back and slapped him soundly across the face. Glaring at him as she angrily demanded, “Why are men so bloody stupid? Thinking he could just kidnap… I had no idea, I swear!” She looked at him desperately, pleading with him to believe her. Resigned, he opened his arms again, only staggering slightly when she launched herself at him. She pulled back to smile at him brightly. “But at least now I don’t need to worry about being forced into getting the Dark Mark.” Charlie smiled back. He must be getting used to her, he thought, as he barely blinked when she burst into sobs. “But he was my father…”

Charlie sighed. As good as it felt to hold her, he knew he had no way of helping Pansy through this alone. Hestia knew Lucius would be gone today, and was off on some mission with Hagrid. Something about etiquette lessons, whatever that meant. She would be back by six, since Lucius was due in at seven. Ah jeez, what would his mother do in a situation like this? His mother! Of course!

“Marlin!”

The house elf appeared instantly. “Yes, guest of Mistress?”

Charlie grinned at the elf. “I’m taking Pansy to visit with my mum. If we’re not back when Lucius gets here, can you send us a warning and we’ll come right back?”

“Certainly, friend of Mistress.”

Charlie thanked him with a nod. Turning back to Pansy he cuddled her close. My, she really was soft. “Pansy, love? Hold onto me tightly, and think only of me, ok?” Pansy nodded obediently, her head still pressed into his neck. Turning on the spot, he apparrated to Grimmauld Place. His breath whooshed out in relief. Ha! Apparently Dumbledore was as lack in his wards concerning side-along apparition as Lucius was in not making sure his guests had free will to leave the manor. It really was quite cozy there – much preferable to this dank and dreary hole.

“Wotcher Charlie!” Charlie looked over to see Tonks sitting at the table, a half eaten plate of food in front of her. He felt Pansy stiffen in his arms at the voice and absently stroked his hands up and down her back to soothe, even as she tightened her arms around his shoulders. She made no move to step away and he made no move to release her. 

“Hey Tonks,” he grinned. “Mum around?”

At these words Pansy lifted her head to smile at him. “Charlie, you brought me to your family?” He nodded his head in bemusement. She really had a pretty smile. 

“CHARLIE WEASLEY WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THIS POOR GIRL!” Pansy and Charlie jumped as their moment was shattered. Ignoring him completely, Molly stepped forward and gently pulled the tear stained girl with her into the kitchen. “There there dear. You just tell me what happened, and I’ll fix it.”

Charlie scratched his head in exasperation as his mother led his… well, led Pansy away. Now what? Sighing, he settled down at the table, stealing Tonk’s plate of food. May as well eat while he waited to take her home. Er… back to the Malfoy’s, that is. 

HDHDHD

Morgana walked slowly through the corridors of Azkaban prison. Smiling and nodding at the cheerful inmates, she noted the improvements made on this upper level. Fresh paint, curtains, clean and healthy prisoners helping each other out. Much better than how it was before. A Death Eater stopped in front of Morgana to inform her he had learned to sew, and was helping make outfits for a small ill-equipped orphanage. He burst into tears when she patted his head and told him how proud she was. Yes, things were much better on this level.

Sighing, she walked down to the lower level.

A monster guarded the door. Golden skin, wide protruding eyes, full wings with feathers as sharp as knives, and claws growing from elongated hands and feet. She smiled as the monster transformed into a slight young girl with waist length blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. It was imperative that only fully transformed Veela guard the prisoners on the lower level. The prisoners so drunk on love for power, or fame, or love of self, they could not even allow the beauty of the Veela to touch their dark souls. The dark souls Voldemort desperately wanted released. 

“He visited, you know? Your young Mr. Potter. Came in with his family and approved of all the changes.”

Morgana smiled gently. “Yes, young Harry has a pure spirit. He would not approve of needless suffering. Even from those he so desperately fights against.”

“The stars aren’t twinkling this week.”

Morgana sighed heavily. “No, they hide their shine behind the clouds. Soon, though, a rain will come and cleanse some of the clouds away.”

The blonde Veela nodded. She looked up the stairs and over towards the window. “The scent of rosemary is in the air.” 

“Unusual for so late in winter.” They looked at each other in complete understanding. Morgana looked over towards the cages other winged monsters guarded. “Our guests?”

“They shift quite a bit this week. Their arms have pained them.” Morgana nodded and turned to go.

“Morgana?” She paused, and looked into shadowed blue eyes. “The storm grows closer.”

She inclined her head in agreement. “Do not fear the coming of the storm, my dearest. Fear the eye of the storm and the false security it brings.” Morgana walked away without another word. 

HDHDHD

It took two days of negotiation before the Woodland Elves agrees to enter the other side of the river. They would relocate to the Forbidden Forest, and work with the magical creatures within to protect the grounds of Hogwarts. It was another three days before the Elves agreed to return Hermione, Ron, and Sirius. Harry and Draco fought for them – literally. For the price of one unworthy was to expand one’s skills. Harry and Draco learned to respect their surrounding in a way that put Hagrid to shame. They were taught to listen to the whisper of the wind, and how to create a healing poultice from herbs scattered about. They also learned how to move swiftly and silently, leaving the barest of traces to their presence. Naturally, they had to test these newly developed skills, and were thus covered in bruises as they trekked back to the castle grounds.

“I still don’t understand,” Hermione snapped out. She was quite insulted to be labeled unworthy, and demanded Harry and Draco not tell anyone she had not passed a test. “Why could they teach you and Draco but no one else?”

“Well,” Harry began. “I suppose these skills will be useful in battles held outside. Help me gain as much an advantage as possible.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow at the Slytherin walking next to Harry. Draco shrugged before reaching over to grab Harry’s hand. “I go where he goes. I love him.”

Ignoring Hermione’s huff of breath and Sirius’ snort of laughter, Harry stopped dead and pulled Draco to him. The kiss was gentle this time. Sweet, almost innocent. They took their time exploring each other, absorbing the light sighs and murmurs. They both blushed as they pulled away and resumed walking. 

They were smiling too hard to notice the beady eyes hiding in the underbrush watching them… or hear the muffled click of paws as the rat followed them inside.

*~~*~*~*

Next chapter.... Christmas!


	15. Black Christmas

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

Would he ever really know what he was doing?

Harry gazed pensively at the letter in front of him. Even as he lightly blew the ink dry and rolled it up, Harry questioned over and over whether he truly had the need or the right to do what he felt needed to be done. Still, he owed it to Neville. Ignoring the burning in his chest that accompanied Neville’s memory, Harry resolutely called Hedwig over. A few quick pets and some softly murmured instructions, and sooner than he was comfortable with he watched his beloved owl soar out the window and disappear into the horizon.

Now, he needed to find Hermione.

Christmas at the Black House really did not allow the opportunity for private conversations, Harry reflected in frustration hours later; as he was still unsuccessful in his attempt. Hermione was enthusiastically enjoying the opportunity to spend as much time alone with Ron as possible, while Tonks, Sirius, and the Weasley twins seemed determined to keep Harry from moping over Draco. Harry scowled. He would be at Malfoy Manor right now, happily spending some needed private time with Draco, instead of sequestered to Black House, if not for Voldemort. Harry wasn’t sure why, but Snape and Dumbledore had insisted it was important Harry not appear close enough to Draco to willingly enter the Manor. He knew they weren’t telling him something, and the repeat of manipulation only served to piss him off even more. Snape and Lupin had been sitting in the kitchen talking when Harry walked in earlier today, and Harry turned around and walked right back out upon seeing them. He knew they were hurt – or, at the very least, slightly disturbed – by his actions, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care. They were deliberately keeping him from Draco, and he didn’t know why. 

He was in a very bad mood as he got ready for bed that night. 

Harry scowled at Ron’s empty bed. He got to spend time with the person he loved the night before Christmas. Bastard. Glaring at the wall, Harry gripped his wand tightly in his hand. He hated Ron right now. If he showed up tonight, Harry was determined to hex him out of jealousy. With that comforting thought, he turned over and fell into a restless sleep. Consequently, no one was around to question the soft scurrying of paws creeping out of Harry’s bag and onto the floor, no one was witness to the shadowy figure of a man approaching Harry’s bed, no one heard the muffled yell as Harry woke up and the man clamped an unnaturally shining hand over his mouth, and no one saw the slight flash of light as Wormtail activated the Portkey and the two struggling figures vanished. 

No one even knew they were gone until the next morning when Molly Weasley opened the door to find a beaming Draco, smiling Narcissa, and smirking Lucius Malfoy standing on the doorstep – waiting to surprise Harry with an actual Christmas visit. Draco bounded up the stairs, happily anticipating waking Harry up with a Christmas kiss, only to return downstairs moments later with a look of confused worry on his face.

“Where’s Harry?”

HDHDHD

Snape glared at the irritating werewolf sitting to his left.

Really, must all dogs behave so abhorrently? He knew Harry was hurting over the forced separation from Draco, and he knew Harry blamed him, and rightly so. Well, in part. Snape tried to convince Dumbledore to connect the Floo at Grimmauld Place to Malfoy Manor for the holiday break, but the headmaster was convinced that Voldemort’s spies in the ministry would note the connection – leading to possible ramifications on both sides. Snape understood, had gone along with Dumbledore’s demand not to tell Harry, and even was present when they broke the news that Harry could not, in fact, spend Christmas with his new family. It had been a long time since Snape had hated himself as much as he’d hated himself upon seeing the look on Harry’s face. The boy hadn’t spoken to him once the entire break, and now the filthy werewolf was silently chastising him for not telling Harry that Draco was to be used to get close to him.

Damn it. Life was so much simpler when he didn’t care about people. 

Not that he cared about these people, mind you, he just… all right, damn it, he cared. Completely irritated at this line of thought, he abruptly shoved away from the table. Lupin looked over at him questioningly. “I’ve had enough of this, I’m leaving. Good night and… Happy Christmas.” Ignoring Lupin’s sigh, he marched out of the door and apparrated home. He knew the minute he arrived that something was off. A faint red glow, viewable only to those who knew about the privacy spell, pulsed above his front door. He had visitors. Only a few dark souls knew how to enter his home. Entering, Snape nodded a curt greeting to the men scattered about. 

He was to have guests for Christmas.

It was late in the evening before he had them all sequestered drunkenly together upstairs. Sighing wearily, Snape settled into his chair by the fireplace and briefly closed his eyes. Only to open them as the sound of someone apparrating was heard on the doorstep. A second later he was on his feet, staring in shock as Peter Pettigrew hauled a bruised and bleeding Harry Potter into the house. Was the boy even aware his wand was in his pants pocket? Snape didn’t think so, as he stared into the dull green eyes, ripe with pain. “What the fuck is going on?” How had Wormtail gotten Potter? He couldn’t have – he wasn’t supposed to. No, Potter was safe. This was a bad dream. Although why he had to choose Christmas to dream about Potter, Snape had no idea.

“Severus,” Wormtail’s voice was even squeakier than normal. “Severus you have to help me. I can’t kill him! I tried!” Wormtail’s voice was getting higher and sharper as he began trembling violently. Dropping Potter onto the floor with a thump, he approached Snape with hands help out beseechingly. “My hand jerks away, barely grazing him with any spell I cast. I can throw him, but end up trying to catch him as well! It hurts me when I hit him, and my throat swells and chokes me over the word Avada… I just can’t do it! You have to kill him for me!”

Acutely aware of the company upstairs, as well as the thin walls, Snape stared down his nose at Wormtail until the man was reduced to a whimpering puddle on the floor. Sweeping past him, he headed to the cabinet where he kept his healing draughts. Speaking coldly and calmly, refusing to allow his hands to shake as he rummaged, he addressed Pettigrew. “Silence. We will restore the boy to health, bind him, and then you will present him to the Dark Lord as a… gift.” Thankfully, Pettigrew was too stupid to question why Harry would need to be healthy before taken to Voldemort. 

Ignoring the pathetic babble of thanks, Snape swiftly approached Potter and lifted his head. Harry refused to drink. As smart an action as Snape knew this to be, he didn’t have time for resistance. He needed to make the boy safe. Sending Wormtail to the kitchen to fetch tea, he leaned in close. “Harry. Harry listen to me. I will keep you safe, I swear. Drink this now; it will restore your energy.” Green eyes focused on his own, staring intently, before Harry obediently opened his mouth and swallowed the potion. Snape watched him closely, and was relieved to see the spark light up in Lily’s green eyes again. Wormtail entered the room at that moment, and dropped the tray of tea with a crash at seeing Harry awake. Snape heard movement upstairs and spoke swiftly and silently to Harry once again. “There are six Death Eaters about to enter through that door. Get up, get outside, and get away.”

Helping Harry to his feet, Snape vaguely registered the boy pulling out his wand and shouting “Colloportus” at the door. Even as he turned towards Harry, he heard “Stupefy.”

Just before the darkness claimed him, Snape remembered precisely why he had always hated all but one Gryffindor. 

HDHDHD

For the second time in his life, Harry had attacked his Potions teacher. He thought it was a rather habit forming addiction.

Turning to the visibly cowering Wormtail, Harry glared at the rodent as he mentally thanked Snape and blessed his ability with potions. “Get up,” he demanded; watching in disgust as Pettigrew tremblingly complied. “You are going to help me fight the Death Eaters.”

Wormtail looked at him incredulously, slowly shaking his head in denial. “I can’t. You have to die Harry.”

“I know,” Harry shrugged as though the statement was nothing monumental. “But not at your hand.”

Wormtail was crying now. “I have to Harry. He… he’ll kill me if I don’t!” Harry had to fight the urge to revive Snape in a bid for comfort. It was important none of the other Death Eaters saw the double agent respond in a less that evil and calculating manner or Snape’s cover would be broken. Think, Harry! Think!

Harry stared at Peter expressionlessly. As though from a dream, he remembered watching Pettigrew die. Remembered the way his creepy hand clenched around his own throat until the life drained from his eyes. And he knew what to say – what he had wanted to say to the man since he was thirteen years old. “You should have died long ago. Like Sirius said – a real friend would have died before selling out his friends to one who wanted them dead. My parents considered you family.” Here, Wormtail flinched visibly. “That night, you killed your own family as surely as you killed mine.” Ignoring Wormtail’s sobs, ignoring the banging on the door and the curses nearly ripping the door off its hinges, Harry turned to check on Snape. Casting a quick protection spell, still leaning over Snape, he turned back to the rodent. “Get up and pull out your wand.” His voice was cold – so cold – and so finely controlled Wormtail didn’t even think about disobeying. Fixing him with his gaze Harry fiercely told him. “You will fight with me now. You will fight against the Death Eaters because you owe me.”

Wormtail didn’t get a chance to respond before the door was suddenly blasted across the room. The Death Eaters spilled into the room and froze at the sight. Snape, unconscious on the floor with Harry kneeling over him protectively, while Wormtail stood above them gripping his wand. The scene seemed oddly surrealistic, and Harry watched with a feeling of vague detachment as Wormtail’s wand rose, seemingly of its own accord, and fired the first curse at the Death Eaters. That was all it took, and then curses were flying around the room. Harry barely felt the pain split across his side as a spell hit before his hastily erected shield rebounded a violently orange jet of light straight into another. Then there were two Death Eaters remaining.

They all watched each other carefully before one of them turned to Wormtail with a hiss. “He will know where your loyalties truly lie!” Even as Harry saw the green light flash he knew it was too late.

“No,” he yelled anyway, ignoring the two pops announcing the disapparrating Death Eaters. It took a moment for Harry to realize the Death Eaters were gone, and had not even tried to take him with them. Then he was hobbling over to where Pettigrew lay on the floor, observing the way his hand shone even in death. He didn’t know what compelled him to speak; he knew Pettigrew couldn’t hear him. “I saw them, you know. Last time I fought Voldemort. They said they were always watching. Somehow… somehow I know they will be happy you died protecting their son.” Gently, he reached out and closed the lids over the blankly staring eyes.

Crawling back over to Snape, Harry felt rather dizzy. He knew they needed to get away – fast – before the others reported to Voldemort. How? Harry was sore and beaten and bleeding; no way could he focus enough to apparrate them safely anywhere. Desperately he called out, “Fawkes!”

He didn’t think it would work, was absolutely certain it wouldn’t, and nearly cried when the phoenix appeared. “We need to get somewhere safe,” he gasped out, clutching his aching side. Fawkes seemed to understand, and flew to Harry’s shoulder. Harry only winced briefly as the talons curled into his shoulder, concentrating with the last of his strength on gripping Snape closely to him. Fawkes burst into flame. Harry noted with surprise that while the fire was warm against his skin it did not burn. Then a whirling sensation unlike anything he’d ever felt stole over his body, and the trio disappeared. 

HDHDHD

If he didn’t already know the boy would die, he would demand his death.

“You are certain of these facts?” As the man before him nodded helplessly, Voldemort felt the fury wash through his body. He welcomed it, even as his heart burned and his eyes narrowed. “It seems our Mr. Pettigrew was a traitor to all, then.” 

Wormtail, his pawn, his toy, had betrayed him. He had ruthlessly invaded the mind of the man before him, finding the truth he sought as his Death Eater screamed at the pain of the mental invasion. Wormtail had taken the boy to Snape, his double agent. Instead of allowing Snape to expose his true loyalty to Lord Voldemort and bring the boy to him himself, Pettigrew had stunned him. Potter had naturally gone to the side of his favorite teacher, unaware of Snape’s true loyalty. However, instead of killing Potter as he knelt, Wormtail had turned his wand on his fellow Death Eaters. Voldemort briefly considered resurrecting Wormtail through dark magic in order to have the pleasure of killing the rat himself. 

As if the whole situation wasn’t sick enough, Potter had disappeared with Snape in a foolish bid of protecting the man from Death Eaters. As if his loyal followers would attack one of their brothers. Wait… to save him surely meant… yes, Potter trusted Snape. Potter believed Snape was on the side of the light. Snape was a better double agent than he thought.

Cheered by this thought, Voldemort roughly jerked the left arm of his minion, watching the Dark Mark burn to life. Once his Inner Circle arrived, he walked over to Nagini. Stroking the smooth coolness of her scales, he turned to his followers with such a feral smile they had to fight the urge to jerk away. “St. Valentine’s Day approaches soon – the greatest celebration of love recognized worldwide. Seems fitting, does it not, that Harry Potter – symbol of hope, light, and love. A tribute to weakness and foolish desires – shall die on that day. “

The boy trusted Snape, and Snape was his. He still had the advantage over this game. He had missed his chance for killing the boy at Christmas, but soon Snape would recover from whatever curse Wormtail had used to incapacitate him. This time, Voldemort himself would finish the boy off, and Snape would bring the boy to him. The boy trusted Snape. 

It was time to plan. For the last time.

HDHDHD

For the second time in his life, Harry felt himself fall to the ground clutching a body. Only this time, instead of clutching a shining cup, his other hand was empty. For a moment he lay still as his body screamed in pain. He could feel the blood seeping through his shirt, sliding down his side at a slick steady pace. Finally gathering the energy, Harry lifted his swimming head.

He was in his bedroom. At the Dursley’s. What was he doing at the Dursley’s? Ah hell, it wasn’t worth worrying about. Grateful to be somewhere Death Eaters could not reach, he closed his eyes and lowered his head onto Snape’s shoulder.

“MUM!” Wait… wasn’t Dudley in the hospital? Hands seized him and turned him over almost gently. Stars exploded behind his closed eyelids, causing him to moan at the renewed pain. “Mum, he’s really hurt.” Hmm… Harry hadn’t heard that note of fear since Dudley had been near the Dementors back in fifth year. Wait, this was fifth year. Harry giggled at the incongruity of his memories. Oddly, the giggle seemed to worry his helpers even more. 

“Quick, let’s get him onto the bed. Dudley, I’m going to get the First Aid kit. In the meantime, go get an air mattress for the other one.” He could hear shuffling feet. Harry was almost tempted to open his eyes, but the darkness felt so silky against his closed eyelids. “Merciful Heavens! Severus Snape!” How had Petunia… oh yeah, she grew up with him. Snape was going to kill Harry once he realized the woman had seen him helpless. He really should have lifted the Stupify before they left Snape’s house.

Oops. Merry Christmas, indeed.


	16. And A Happy New Year

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

Madame Pomphrey must be losing her touch.

Well, at least so Harry thought. After all, the woman repaired all his bruises and bumps, most injuries sustained whenever he was bored and decided to battle Voldemort, and cleaned up the after effects of Potions accidents and spell damage with nothing more than a sniff of disapproval and a disdainful look. She had patched him up after falling fifty feet off his broom, ordered him about after McLaggan caused him to crack his skull open, and still Harry had not woken up this sore since second year when he had to regrow all of the bones in his arm. Perfect. She had to wait until the world and karma in general hated him before joining along. Feeling utterly wretched, Harry opened his eyes. And blinked.

Oh. Right then. Petunia, not Pomphrey.

He’d always thought Madame Pomphrey was a saint. Blushing slightly, Harry’s chagrin immediately turned into a wince as he attempted to sit up. “For heaven’s sake, you idiot boy, stay still.” Turning at the noise, Harry looked over to see Snape sitting on a chair by his bed watching him intently.

“Aw Snape,” he teased breathlessly, wincing anew from the pressure in his side, and back, and arm, and… well, pretty much everywhere. Did the man decide to release fifteen years of frustration toward him and beat him while he was asleep? “Keep looking at me like that and people might actually think you care.” He looked around, “Where’d Aunt Petunia go?”

As if on cue, Petunia and Dudley walked through the door, both bearing trays. Startled at the sight, Harry nearly fell off his bed when Dudley hurriedly thrust his tray into Snape’s hands and hugged Harry. “Oh I’m so glad you’re awake! We were really worried about you. Mum and I patched you up the best we could, but your friend couldn’t use the stick thingy and you had lost a lot of blood. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for two days and your owl thing showed up just a little bit ago. She bit him. Then your Master over there used her to send something to a few people.” 

Hmm… maybe Snape had decided to turn him over to Death Eaters. These people were definitely not the ones with which he shared DNA. Warily eying Dudley, who was still clinging to him, Harry turned questioning eyes to Snape. “I… what… two days? Stick thingy…you couldn’t use my wand? Did Dudley just call you my master?”

Snape smiled smugly. “Well, I am your Potions Master, after all. Far be it from me to deny these… Muggles… the use of my title.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Wand? You couldn’t use my wand to patch me up?”

A ruddy wash of color flooded Snape’s neck and cheeks at that, but he was saved from answering by Petunia, who shooed Dudley away before perching on the side of Harry’s bed and handing him the tray of food. “Oh no,” she began blithely, sticking a thermometer in Harry’s mouth, “he tried to use your stick but it was too hard for him to control. Blasted you across the room when he tried.” WHAT? Harry looked at Snape, who deliberately began eating and ignored Harry completely. She nodded absently at his temperature before ordering Harry to eat. “Said something about wands choosing wizards or something. But poor Severus didn’t wake up until hours and hours after you arrived.”

Poor Severus looked rather murderously over at Harry for that, and Harry winced apologetically. It would take a while to explain. “Yeah Harry,” Dudley chimed in, looking rather proud, “and we know all about how powerful you are. When I was at Saint Monkey’s the nurses said you had killed an evil man and fought all kids of scary things. One of them even had a cool picture of you flying over a dragon! It was wicked.” Harry just blinked at Dudley’s excited face for a minute. St. Monkey’s? Ok – obviously St. Mungo’s, with healers instead of nurses. “Of course, some of them said you were barking mad but I told them I already knew that. Once they knew we were related, they gave me my own room and loads of people sent me chocolates and candies and flowers and get well messages!” Ah, ok then – send Dudley candy and even Harry Potter becomes a friend.

Harry looked at Dudley properly for the first time. He was rather pale and definitely thinner. Unexpectedly, a lump rose in Harry’s throat as he remembered tripping over a cup of tea in his doorway, Dudley refusing to leave with the Order members until he knew Harry would be ok, and telling him “I don’t think you’re a waste of space.” He looked at Dudley seriously. “I’m glad you’re ok,” he said quietly, “sorry about… well, sorry about your Dad.” He was rather alarmed when Dudley’s eyes filled with tears, but relieved when he nodded jerkily in acceptance.

“Sir,” Harry abruptly turned to Snape as a thought occurred to him, taking the raised eyebrow as acknowledgement to proceed. “My family is not magical like I am, but Dumbledore was able to use my aunt’s blood to create powerful protective shields. The Riddle’s weren’t magical either, but they share Voldemort’s” Snape winced at the name “blood. Part of Him is in me… can I access that as a blood curse or whatever?”

Snape looked at Harry thoughtfully. “You seem rather convinced you share similarities with the Dark Lord.”

Harry’s smile was bitter. “More than you know.”

Snape frowned slightly. “I suppose if you had access to a tool designed to channel spirits you would be able to manipulate who answers.” Snape looked oddly reluctant to continue this conversation, and rather uneasy at the question Harry was asking.

Harry thought of Slytherin’s ring, even now locked safely in his trunk, and smiled. He knew of a way to contact spirits.

The doorbell rang. Aunt Petunia and Dudley jumped but Snape only smirked. “Excellent,” he announced. “My letters have already reached their intended recipients.” The sound of the door opening downstairs and hurried footsteps made Petunia go dramatically pale, and even Snape took pity on her. Almost kindly he said, “They wouldn’t be able to enter if Dumbledore had not given them permission to do so.” Petunia nodded hesitantly, but she still wrapped her arms protectively around her nephew. Harry, who could not once remember Petunia embracing him or attempting to shelter him, was still gaping in shock when three people crested the top of the stairs and hurried forward.

He felt someone brush Petunia aside, and looked up just as cool lips claimed his own. Hands threaded through his hair and over his shoulders even as warmth flooded through him at the kiss. Questing hands slid down his sides however, and the burning pain caused him to yelp. Draco immediately pulled away from him, looking horrified and pale. “Oh Harry I’m sorry! We’ve been so dreadfully worried! No one knew where you were or if you… well, I – we – haven’t really slept well, and then there you were…Father wasn’t going to tell me what Snape’s letter said, but Ginny got him with a Bat Bogey hex and the twins stole it. They all wanted to come see you, but Father had to go to Snape’s house first, and I already knew where it was so I left your house and went there, and well Father couldn’t just leave me there so he brought me to you, and oh God are you all right?” Draco was babbling, a clear indication of nerves. Harry reached up to stroke his hair, when another figure abruptly yanked the blond off the bed all together.

Harry looked up, furious, and felt his anger morph so fast into relief all he could do was beam. “Now then, Mr. Potter, let’s see what you’re done to yourself this time. Everyone out!” As Madame Pomphrey went into full on healer mode, every protest was swallowed as people found themselves herded unceremoniously out the door. Harry smiled at Draco, nodded at Lucius as he handed a wand to Snape and began whispering, and called out reassurances to his hovering aunt and cousin. Harry had never been so happy to see the healer in his life, and was unusually docile as she poked and prodded him, swallowing the potions down obediently and not even making a joke over the smell of the paste she applied to his side. Finally, blissfully pain free, his guests were allowed to reenter the room.

Surprisingly, it was Lucius who looked at Harry appraisingly before suggesting returning to Grimmauld Place. Harry hesitated, looking at his nervous relatives. Draco, ever the gentleman, immediately stepped forward and graciously invited/ordered the Dursley’s to come as well. Harry’s beaming smile had him organizing the escape in mere moments, and the Dursley’s found themselves at Grimmauld Place before they knew quite what was happening. The roar of noise that greeted his arrival made Harry flinch, and it was only Draco’s promptly erected shield charm that kept Harry from being smothered under a sea of anxious well wishers. Harry was actually grateful when Madame Pomphrey relayed her instructions for Harry’s care to Molly Weasley before returning to Hogwarts, as Molly immediately began smacking her children and various Order members until they quit crowding around him. 

For an hour, Harry found himself fed and petted before his yawns began overtaking him. He went unresistingly with Draco when he pulled him to his feet, kissed Narcissa and Molly on the cheek, and followed his love upstairs to his room. Harry was too tired to question why Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Blaise, and Pansy were sitting in the room, and stripped down to his boxers unblushingly; wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed. He heard a whimper, and turned to see Pansy gazing at his side in horror. No one commented when Draco crawled into bed with him, and Harry soon fell into a peaceful sleep, lulled by the sound of Draco’s heartbeat and the whispers of his friends. 

HDHDHD

Draco gazed up at the ceiling as his hand absently soothed a pattern on Harry’s back. He was back. He was safe. 

When Draco had walked downstairs asking where Harry was, chaos had reigned. Sirius and Tonks started searching the house even as Ron, Hermione, and the Weasley clan entered the kitchen. Dumbledore arrived, looking pale and furious, but no one could find him. Draco felt frozen. He’d refused to leave the house until Harry returned, and his mother hadn’t tried to make him. Ginny had given him an odd look at his flat refusal, before making him a cup of tea. When his father had received the owl from Snape and a familiar gleam had entered his eyes, Draco knew immediately it was about Harry. Without quite knowing why, he had glanced at Ginny, who looked right back at him before standing and cursing his father so fast Lucius hadn’t a chance to defend himself. His father was still angry that Draco had read the letter and disappeared before ensuring he was ok. Malfoy’s, after all, look out for their own above all else.

But Harry was his, and Draco needed to make sure he was ok before he could pretend to care about anyone else. His father had glared, but the sheer absence of retribution told Draco that his father understood. Now that his Harry was safe, Draco intended to keep him that way. He started when he felt a hand brush his hair away from his forehead, and turned to gaze into impossibly green eyes. Draco smiled, leaning forward to pepper kisses over the beautiful face in his arms. Yes, he would keep his Harry safe. Forever. 

“We missed Christmas.” Harry’s voice was quiet and rueful, still rough with sleep. The combination made Draco shiver. “Since you’re here, can I give you your present now?” Draco desperately wanted to respond, but he was afraid that if he opened his mouth he would say something embarrassing… like how all he needed was Harry. That would never do. He nodded, reluctantly allowing Harry to slip out of his arms; climbing out of bed himself and fetching the box hidden in his cloak. 

Sitting down again, Draco held out his arms for Harry to climb into again, but Harry ignored him to sit before him instead. Draco frowned, but found his mouth going dry at the look in Harry’s eyes. “Draco,” Harry’s voice shook lightly, “you are my heart. My family. You own me as much as anyone can really own another soul.” Draco could feel his heart beating in his chest, furiously pumping blood through his suddenly flushed body. “I’m not asking you to marry me. Well, not yet anyway… we are still fifteen. But I want you to know – Hell, I want everyone to know – that we belong together.” He handed the box to Draco. 

Draco opened the box with shaking hands, nearly dropping it when he saw the large gold band inside. It was the Potter family crest. A symbol, if ever there was one, of power, prestige, lineage… family. Shocked, Draco looked up to see Harry eyeing him steadily. Oh yes, Harry knew what he was giving him. Without taking his eyes off of Harry, Draco removed the ring from the box. Again, he wanted to do something ridiculous like demand Harry place the ring on his hand. Where did these urges come from? Instead, he silently slid the ring onto his finger, feeling loved and claimed and complete in a new and thrilling way.

Blinking back tears of his own, Draco handed his gift to Harry. He suddenly felt embarrassed and inferior. “It’s not much… well, not as much as your gift to me.” Stop babbling, he ordered himself. Taking a deep breath he continued almost shyly, “but I know you hate being alone. I wanted you to know you’re never alone.” Harry looked intrigued. Draco watched anxiously as he opened the box and stared down at the shining silver chain. Only it wasn’t a chain, not really. It was a silver snake that coiled into the shape of a necklace or bracelet, depending on its intended use, and on its back was engraved a dragon. 

For a minute Harry simply stared, watching the dragon dance up and down the back of the snake, watching as the snake raised its head and blinked at Harry. Slowly he reached in and took out the chain, hissing at it in silent communication. The snake hissed back, before moving to coil comfortably around his Harry’s neck. Harry looked up finally with eyes luminous with tears. Crap, Draco thought, he hates it. “I love it.” Draco blinked for a moment before the words processed. They beamed at each other happily, before Harry leaned over and kissed him. Immediately distracted, they fell back onto the bed, murmuring their love for the other as they kissed and caressed and held each other close. 

They never saw the white glow of light emitting from the necklace and the ring, but they felt the flood of warmth. 

HDHDHD

It was not until three days after his return from the Dursley’s that Harry managed to corner Hermione alone.

They huddled together in Mrs. Black’s old room, occasionally feeding dead rats to Buckbeak as they settled down. Hermione looked curious as Harry placed a silencing and imperturbable charm on the door, but made no comment. Harry looked into her warm brown eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s my fault Neville is dead.” The reaction was instantaneous, as Hermione jerked back in shock before immediately babbling about how Harry could not blame himself, Voldemort was a sick vindictive bastard, no one could have known, and so on until he held up a hand to stop her. Once she fell quiet, he continued.

“No, Hermione, it is my fault. Think about it. Neville has never been a strong wizard, but in fifth year that all changed. What changed?”

Hermione frowned as she mulled over his question. He knew, as he saw her go sharply pale, that she realized what he was implying. Indeed, there were tears in her eyes as she whispered, “The DA.”

Harry nodded grimly. “Exactly. We gave Neville the tools to recognize his potential last time, and we took that away from him just as swiftly this time around by not forming the DA. Umbridge was not here, we were on a quest, and we didn’t have time.” His eyes were sharp with pain as he looked at his best friend. “Hermione, how many other kids have we just condemned to death by not forming the DA? How do we know one of those kids didn’t use a spell we taught them to keep them safe? Or turned around and taught those spells to others, like little brothers or sisters? How could we not have thought of the other students?”

Hermione looked stricken. “We have to make sure they know the same spells.” Harry nodded in agreement. Hermione nodded back, her mind furiously accessing long suppressed memories. “I remember the spells we taught… but how are we going to teach them this time?”

Harry smiled genuinely for the first time since entering the room. The snake around his necked slithered around excitably as it felt Harry’s heart beat increase. “I have an idea about that already. But Hermione…” he trailed off before squaring his shoulders. This time his smile was grim as he looked at her. “You should know that the day I was taken by Wormtail, earlier… well, earlier I mailed a letter…” Hermione’s eyes grew large as Harry talked, but by the end she was nodding her head in resigned agreement and helping him plan his approach of the school.

Now all they had to do was bring in their friends. 

HDHDHD

Severus Snape kept his mind purposefully blank as he gazed at the floor.

Voldemort was feeling vindictive and emotional, and Snape knew that if he relaxed the guard on his mind his life would be forfeit. He was rather proud of himself for showing no emotion as Voldemort began speaking. “The boy is well?”

“My Lord, he was wounded in the attack at my house. I do not know the nature of his wounds, as Wormtail cursed me within moments of his arrival.” Thank God for Lucius, he thought fleetingly. Now that Snape knew the bare details of what Voldemort knew, he could behave appropriately. “When I awoke I was in a strange environment and was not allowed to speak to Potter for several days afterwards.” He knew Voldemort could sense the honesty in his response, and felt a swell of gratitude over ambiguous wording. 

“Young Mr. Potter trusts you, does he not? Views you as a confidant, his beloved teacher?”

Snape inwardly snorted. Beloved? Not hardly. “Yes, My Lord. Potter knows that Dumbledore trusts me. He trusts the old man, therefore he trusts me as well. Potter thought he was rescuing me from Death Eaters, once he realized I was in the room with him.”

He could sense a new emotion in the air – excitement, perhaps? He was not given time to dwell on it as Voldemort began speaking once again. “I have an assignment for you, my most trusted of spies.” Snape nodded, still staring at the floor. “I wish you to assist Draco in his quest to gain Potter’s trust. Encourage the friendship; feed him half truths until he sees Draco as an equal. Once that is accomplished, Draco is to distract Potter while you allow my faithful Death Eaters into Hogwarts.” Snape felt his insides contract as ice flooded through him at the thought. Outwardly, he merely nodded. 

“Severus?” He raised his head and looked into glowing crimson eyes. “If you succeed in this, you shall be the one to rid the world of the meddling old fool. Should you fail…” Voldemort gestured dismissively. Snape nodded his understanding, and hastily bid his goodbyes before departing. His mind was swirling, his heart was racing. He felt like water was filling his lungs, constricting him of the ability to breathe.

How would Dumbledore react when Snape told him he needed to kill him after breaking Death Eaters into Hogwarts?

HDHDHD

Everyone was happily gathered at Grimmauld Place.

Harry still didn’t know when Blaise and Pansy had shown up, but somehow they ended up staying. It was a large and vivacious bunch that chatted around the dinner table while waiting to ring in the New Year. Harry sat comfortably within Draco’s arms, watching with amusement as Tonks changed her appearance for an enthralled Dudley, Blaise, and Pansy while Ginny smiled more at Blaise than Tonks. Narcissa, Molly, and Petunia quietly conversed over tea, and the twins plotted with Hermione and Ron. Snape sat at one end of the table with Lupin and Sirius, cheerfully making scathing comments as the trio played cards. Harry was happy and content. 

He watched lazily as a pompous looking owl soared down the chimney and headed directly towards him. He was aware of the sharpened interest in the room and Draco’s arms tightening around him, but deliberately kept his motions relaxed as he removed the letter from the owl and allowed it to fly away. Opening the letter, he skimmed it quickly, noting with amusement that the letter was signed with a flourish by Cornelius Fudge. “…trust you’ve heard the news… grievous blow to morale… need to discuss… immediate attention… will be in touch.” It was about time, he noted. 

Satisfied, he tucked the letter inside his pocket and exchanged a deliberate glance with Hermione. He knew his friends were looking at him suspiciously, but didn’t say a word as he closed his eyes and leaned back against Draco. The arms around him were tense, Harry knew Draco was about to explode with questions. As much for pleasure as to distract, Harry stroked his hand down Draco’s thigh, smirking at the immediate shiver. It worked though, for Draco relaxed against him and the buzz of noise slowly rebuilt in the room. His friends would find out soon enough. It was important they understood.

Harry had been ordered to meet with the Minister of Magic.

~*~*~*

So let's see.... I've killed Neville, Vernon, and Pettigrew. Ginny was almost a Christmas present, and Pansy became a victim or circumstance. Who's next...


	17. Honesty and Illusions

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

WARNING and DISCLAIMER still in effect. Surprisingly enough, I own nothing. Who'd a thunk?

Harriverse ~ I hate studying. With a violent all consuming passion. I did, however, inform my teacher I would rather be at home writing chapter 7 of my newest fanfic and she laughed and applauded my creative method of reducing stress. I have been chanting "just three more days" like a mantra. I'm a tree, I can bend. *sigh* Yep, I could never kill Sirius. I love him. I have a fun scene with him during the final battle. Oh, and no. Not Crabbe or Goyle. I rather like them. They're harmless.

~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*

~ AZKABAN PRISON – BOXING DAY ~

Morgana strolled lazily down the corridor of Azkaban prison, showing no hint of urgency or nervousness as she approached her guest. Smiling as he stood and bowed, kissing her hand with a flourish, Morgana curtsied in return. “Prince Phinneas of the Woodland Elves. You honor me with your presence.”

Phinneas gave a wicked grin, dark eyes gleaming in appreciation. “No, Morgana of the Veela. It is you who honor me.” Offering his arm, they gracefully walked together toward their destination. “A strange alliance, this,” Phinneas murmured casually, “the Veela and the Elves. Made stranger still by the task we complete today.”

Morgana smiled slightly, though it did not reach her eyes. She thought back to the letter she had received two days ago. “Dark and difficult times,” she responded. Phinneas cocked his head at her, but she shook her head as they reached the stairs and silently walked to door where the transformed Veela stood waiting. Entering, Morgana and Phinneas stood quietly and looked at the men waiting under heavy guard for them, even as others screamed and demanded release from their own prisons. She gazed at the men, noting the calculating and wild gleam in their eyes, before stepping forward and gesturing Phinneas to do the same. “Greetings,” she offered politely, though the men snorted and shook their head in disgust at her manners. She allowed her eyes to sparkle, green orbs glowing, even as a white light surrounded her. The gold in her hair flashed, highlighting the impossibly red strands, until it almost appeared as though a ball of fire roared about her head. She turned to Phinneas.

Like herself, Phinneas released the hold upon his magic. He stood with his hair fluttering madly about his face, tossing about in a swift breeze, and his body began glowing as though passing large amounts of energy even as his eyes changed from brown to a deep swirling blue; the blue of the ocean on a storm swept day. Morgana turned back to her guests, and felt a flare of satisfaction as Phinneas’ elemental magic combined with her innate gift achieved what neither of their powers could complete alone. The men were looking at them with glazed stupefaction. Fleetingly, Morgana considered dismissing the letters intentions, but resolutely steeled her resolve. 

“Dolohov, Rookwood, Lestrange, Nott, Macnair.” Her voice echoed eerily in the cavern. The men paid the ambiance no mind; compelled to answer as the magic swirled around them. One by one they fell to the floor, muscles turned lax unable to support them properly.

“On this day you will leave Azkaban and return to the one you call Dark Lord. You will not remember the Veela, myself, or anything other than Dementors controlling the prison as always.” The blue in Phinneas’ eyes deepened and lightened at the same time, creating a conflicting swirl that seemed to burn into the minds of the men before them. “When questioned, you will announce the Dementors have deserted their post. You have no idea what happened on the upper level of the prison, only knowing of a small contingency of Dementors that remained below; allowing you to escape before the ministry took over. You know nothing of any passing of time, nor of any other prisoners, as it was only your section of the prison that managed to flee.” As Morgana forced the images into their heads, the men nodded obediently.

“Excellent,” she announced. “Now, you will stand and walk out. You may not have your wands. You will be removed from the island by boat, though all you will remember will be swimming away.” The men shivered as images of swimming through the icy water appeared in their head. They nodded obediently, yet again. Like flipping a switch, Morgana and Phinneas turned off their power and calmly preceded the men up the stairs and down the corridor. Still glassy eyed, the men followed. Bellatrix waved and cheerfully called out to her husband as he passed, looking rather hurt as he ignored her. The blonde haired Veela reached out to stroke her cheek, and Bellatrix immediately smiled, all thoughts of seeing her husband erased. 

The men climbed quietly into the waiting boat. Watching them drift further and further away, Phinneas shot an uneasy look up at the sky. “I hope Harry knows what he’s doing.”

Morgana smiled sadly as she too watched the prisoners leave. “The mirror often has two faces.”

Phinneas shot her a baffled look. “Do you ever speak in anything other than riddles and metaphors?” He sounded petulant but couldn’t help it.

Morgana turned to him in amusement. “Sometimes one must deceive in order to expose the truth.”

Phinneas eyed her steadily before turning away with a snort. “I’ll take that as a no.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The atmosphere at the school was strained.

As before, the news of Death Eaters escaping Azkaban had a profound impact on the students and teachers. The fact that the escape had occurred the day after Christmas… well, everyone was feeling rather more on edge than usual. Harry felt justified in his actions as he walked into the Great Hall the first morning back, absorbing the renewed whispers and people pointing in his direction. Of course, that could be in part because his story of what happened in the graveyard last year – although Harry refrained from listing all the Death Eaters he remembered – being published on New Years Day. The students had had two days to review Harry’s account of Voldemort’s return and compare it against the ministry’s weak reassurance that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had not returned at all, and Harry and Dumbledore were crazy. Half the school already thought Harry was crazy – what with finding a magical stone by looking in a mirror, his ability to talk to snakes, fighting off Dementors, and become a fourth champion in a three champion game – but… wasn’t insanity based around an element of truth?

As Harry sat down to breakfast at the Gryffindor table, he felt the eyes staring at him and had to fight a shout of relief as Draco gracefully slid into a seat next to him. He grinned at his love, the snake around his neck slithering happily. Draco smiled back, reaching over to link their fingers together, and Harry quickly became rather lost in the warm gray eyes brimming with emotion. “You know,” Blaise said causally as he, Ginny, and Pansy joined them at the table, “it’s rather disturbing to watch you two smile so sappily at each other. Ron’s been trying to get your attention for at least five minutes.” Startled, Harry blinked and looked around the hall, only to find Ron sitting directly across the table from him drumming his fingers on the table in exasperation. Everyone laughed as Draco and Harry blushed.

“Sorry Ron,” Harry said sheepishly. “I was just…” He looked over at Draco again, and instantly resumed looking at him in adoration as he noticed the blonde wearing the ring he’d been gifted at Christmas. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron grumbled, smiling at his friend. “I’ve been trying to tell you that McGonagall told me to tell you that Dumbledore wants to see you and Draco after breakfast.” Harry nodded absently, leaning over to give Draco a soft, slow kiss. “And then, of course,” Ron continued blithely, “you have to waltz around the hall with Dobby approximately three times while clucking like a chicken. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered dreamily. “Waltz with Dobby…wait, what?” He tore his eyes away from how beautiful Draco looked to frown over at Ron, flushing as the table once again roared with laughter. “All right, all right,” he said, holding his hands up in mock defeat, before concentrating on his friends and the plans they had for tomorrow. Twenty minutes before breakfast ended, Harry and Draco excused themselves and marched to the Headmaster’s office. They spent an entertaining few minutes calling out candy, and some imaginative uses for candy, before they were admitted. Still giggling, the smiles died on their faces as the door opened on the grave faces of Snape, Lucius, and Dumbledore.

“Hello boys,” Dumbledore greeted. “Lemon drop?” Draco choked at the reminder of the conversation in the hallway, before hastily refusing. Harry declined as well, and waited expectantly. 

“Potter,” Snape began firmly. “There are a few things you need to know about the Dark Lord’s reaction to the happenings over Christmas holiday.” Harry listened, feeling himself go oddly numb, as Lucius and Snape explained how Voldemort intended to use Draco to make Harry vulnerable and easily distracted. He felt sick as he learned Snape needed to bring Death Eaters into the castle, and how Voldemort intended to have Snape kill Dumbledore. Draco’s hand squeezed Harry’s convulsively, but Harry barely felt it as memories crashed and intermingled in his head. Some things never change, he thought disjointedly.

“Harry,” Dumbledore’s voice was gentle. “You don’t need to worry.” That’s a laugh, Harry thought. “There have never been Death Eaters in this school, and there never will be. As for Voldemort killing me,” he paused to look at Harry with twinkling eyes, “well, we both know he’s dreamed of that for several years to no avail.”

“It wouldn’t be hard to bring Death Eaters into school.” Harry’s flat statement was obviously not the expected response as the others stared at him. Even Draco looked rather intimidated. “As for Voldemort wanting you dead,” he deliberately ignored the shudders from hearing the name. “Well, be grateful he hasn’t had cause to look for the Elder Wand yet or you would be in real trouble.” The others looked confused, but Harry ignored them and stared at Dumbledore. He smiled grimly when he saw the older man’s eyes widen in understanding as he remembered his last serious conversation held with Harry in this office. Dumbledore’s eyes flickered once to Draco. Interpreting it correctly Harry shook his head. “No. That much is different. The cabinet is still broken… although it is still probably on the fourth floor as Montague was never shoved into it.” Dumbledore nodded, and Harry knew the vanishing cabinet would be gone by the end of the day.

Draco stood up. It was clear he didn’t understand the undercurrents swirling between Harry and Dumbledore, but he recognized the fact that he was to be a tool to bring down Harry, and desperately needed to reassure his boyfriend that would never happen. “We need to get to class,” he said smoothly.

Dumbledore, Snape, and Lucius nodded reluctantly, even as Harry stood to accompany Draco out the door. They walked out of the office and down the stair in absolute silence. The minute they rounded the corner, however, Draco slammed Harry against the wall and pressed himself against him almost desperately. “Never,” he whispered vehemently. “I would never betray you like that.” Draco kissed Harry’s neck, his cheek, his eyelids, even as one hand wrapped around Harry’s waist and the other buried itself in the mop of silky black hair. “I would die rather than betray you.” Draco was trembling.

Harry didn’t pause to think as he dropped his bag on the floor and hauled Draco’s body even closer to him. He could feel Draco’s heart thudding anxiously, and rubbed soothing circles on his back. “I know.” He said simply. Draco stared at him for a moment, holding Harry’s gaze and reading the sincerity behind the statement, before leaning forward and kissing him. Draco’s tongue slid across Harry’s teeth and inside his mouth even as his hand roved across Harry’s back. It was almost as though he was trying to memorize the feel of Harry, the taste of him, and Harry suddenly realized that as scared as Draco was of Harry thinking he would cause him harm, his blonde was even more terrified at the prospect of losing Harry altogether. 

A tremendous wave of guilt crashed into Harry and he pulled away to stare at Draco for a moment. From the very beginning Harry had been trying to prepare Draco for the inevitability of his death. While Draco acknowledged the fact Harry thought he would die, he still hadn’t accepted the reality of the situation. “Harry…” Draco sounded uncertain. Knowing they would need to revisit this conversation later, Harry shoved the thought to the back of his head and lowered his head to Draco again. Slipping his hand underneath Draco’s robe, Harry ran his hands over Draco’s smooth back and chest, bringing his hands up to twitch playfully over his nipples. When Draco moaned into his mouth, Harry smiled and moved his mouth away. He licked a path down Draco’s neck, pressing a kiss over the fluttering pulse before sucking firmly. 

They were rather disheveled when they walked into class. Late.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The day was rather surreal for Harry. Between the kids staring and whispering loudly everywhere he turned, and Draco popping up between classes to escort Harry around, by dinner Harry was ready to scream. He understood Draco’s need for reassurance, and honestly didn’t begrudge him for it. Well, since Hermione explained to him why he needed the assurance anyway. History of Magic, taught by an absolutely clueless ghost, was the perfect class for discussions, and even Hermione took a break from note taking as Harry explained to her and Ron the conversation in Dumbledore’s office. Having thought about Draco’s reaction, Harry was actually rather looking forward to reassuring Draco further when the summons came to head to the Headmaster’s office. Harry scowled as he told Hermione to tell the others he’d see them later.

The Minister of Magic was waiting for him. 

Harry gazed impassively as Fudge warbled on about the decimation of morale due to Harry’s little story hitting the press. Harry should be ashamed for causing such widespread panic, since everyone knew Sirius Black was the one behind the escapes from Azkaban. Fudge had personally gone to Azkaban and had been told by one of the nice new guards that everything was under control. Harry let him prattle on without really listening to him, as he gazed at Percy Weasley. He’d forgotten about him, oddly enough. Percy shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Harry’s gaze. Oh, had he been staring? Abruptly deciding enough was enough, Harry held up a hand for silence, rather amused when it actually worked.

“Mr. Fudge,” he began politely. After all, wasn’t Draco always yelling at him about strategy? Behaving politely to the opposition allowed them to underestimate you… and let you get under their skin before they knew it. “I understand your frustrations, I honestly do. However,” here he glared straight into the other man’s eyes, “let me tell you a few things I know for fact. I know that once Voldemort openly declares his return you will be voted out of office.” He ignored the indignant spluttering, raising his voice only slightly as he continued. “I know that once people realize how many lives were needlessly lost due to your reluctance to embrace reality, you will be viewed in the same capacity as a war criminal than a war victim.” Harry felt rather bad as Fudge paled dramatically, but continued on in a hard quiet voice. “I know the people you employ, such as Dolores Umbridge and Albert Runcorn will eagerly embrace Voldemort’s pureblood ideals and the ministry will fall.” He looked steadily at the shaking man before him, feeling oddly like he was in a dream of Voldemort’s when Fudge bowed his head in defeat. “Deny the truth all you want Fudge,” he continued quietly. “But the truth always has a way of coming out. You need to decide right now where your loyalties lie… with the people, or with your own selfish ideals of greatness.”

There was a ringing silence once Harry finished speaking. Dumbledore was beaming at him in great pride, Fudge looked cowed, and Percy… well, Percy needed to be dealt with separately, Harry decided. When Fudge lifted his head, Harry was startled to see tears in the man’s eyes, even as he nodded at Harry. “Excellent,” he declared briskly, rising to his feet. “I will leave you to Dumbledore then. Percy,” the boy jumped at his name. “A word please?”

Percy looked as though he would rather dance with a Thestral than follow Harry out of the office, but Fudge waived him away impatiently. “Yes, go on Weatherby. I need to have a chat with Albus.”

Reluctantly, he followed Harry down the stairs, through the corridor, and into an empty classroom. After closing the door, Harry regarded him silently for a moment. “You heard what I said in Dumbledore’s office.” It wasn’t a question, and Percy nodded jerkily, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes. Harry let the silence stretch for a moment before continuing. “What would you do if Bill had half his face bitten by a werewolf? Or Fred died in front of your eyes?” It was cruel and he knew it, but Harry refused to feel guilty as Percy jerked and stared at him in horror.

“I… I…” Percy seemed at a loss for words as the images Harry mentioned swam in his head. He shuddered before visibly collecting himself. “That would never happen. Besides, I would have heard…” Percy trailed off as the realization that he had not spoken to his family for several months seemed to hit him all at once. 

“Did you know Ginny was kidnapped and tortured before Christmas?” Harry questioned pleasantly. He ignored the involuntary whimper Percy uttered. “Your family fights against Voldemort, Percy. They fight against a man capable of evil deeds you could not imagine in your wildest dreams.” Percy was shaking. Harry waited until Percy met his eyes before continuing quietly. “The cost of war is high. In the end, will you stand with your family… or help cast the curse that destroys them?” Without another word Harry turned and walked away. He went straight to his room, too upset by confrontations and memories to even think about dinner.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The following day had Harry standing next to Narcissa.

You would think, he thought rather nauseously, that after teaching the DA and leading all the people in the final battle at Hogwarts he would be used to staring people down. However, Harry wasn’t Draco… he didn’t like receiving all the attention. Though, as the classroom of students shifted and muttered in front of him, Harry rather thought even Draco wouldn’t approve. Absently he lifted a hand to stroke the cool snake at his throat. Beside him, Narcissa spoke brightly. “Good morning, class.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy,” they parroted back obediently, slanting looks at Harry.

“Today we have a guest,” Narcissa continued calmly, shifting fractionally closer to press her hand against the small of his back in comfort. “You will listen to what he says.” It wasn’t a request, and after several months of class with Narcissa, the class knew better than to question her. 

Harry looked into the sea of curious and slightly resentful faces. He said one word - “Voldemort.” The reaction was immediate and involuntary. Several people whimpered, a few shrieked, one Hufflepuff even fell out his chair. Harry waited till the confusion abated slightly before continuing. “He’s back. I know it, Dumbledore knows it, and those of you smart enough to follow the series of violence in the newspaper know it.” The shifting abated as more and more students gave their full attention to Harry. He took a deep breath. “The thing is, it’s only going to get worse. I am going to find him and I am going to kill him.” He ignored the gasps that accompanied that statement, and continued; a hard light shining in his eyes. “Knowing Voldemort, he will attack Hogwarts. It’s not a matter of if so much as a matter of when. I think you all need to be prepared. Which is why,” he hesitated briefly; “Which is why I want to teach you to properly defend and protect yourself.”

Zacharias Smith raised his hand. “What makes you think you can teach us? How do we know that if we follow you we won’t end up dead like Cedric?”

Evan as Narcissa went rigid next to him and the class gasped, Harry did nothing for a full minute but stare at Smith. He’d forgotten how much he’s always hated the little bastard. Narcissa drawled out “excuse me” in a voice so cold half the class flinched in reaction. 

Smith flushed, but continued stubbornly on. “Look, it’s just the only ones who say You-Know-Who is back are you and Dumbledore. Cedric could have confirmed or denied it but… well, it’s just rather convenient he’s…” Zacharias trailed off, looking rather frightened by the black look on Harry’s face. 

Without realizing it, Harry stood up straighter, his eyes flashing dangerously. The class literally froze in position. “Convenient?” His voice was so soft, so dangerously low, the class scooted back in their chairs as one, staring at him in morbid fascination. “You think it is convenient that a student… a friend… died in front of me? Died because of Voldemort? Died a hero’s death and is not ever properly recognized for it?” Abruptly memories of the first DA meeting crashed through Harry’s head and he found himself unconsciously repeating his words again. “ If you want to know what it’s like when Voldemort murders someone, I can’t help you. I don’t want to talk about Cedric.” His voice was flat, his eyes shooting daggers as they scanned the room. “Dumbledore told you all what happened last year. If you don’t believe Dumbledore, then you don’t believe me and I won’t waste my time trying to convince you. However, if you want to learn to properly protect yourself and others, I am here to tell you that there will be a meeting in the Dining Hall after dinner tomorrow. There, I will split you into groups to see what you truly know, and teach you spells that have saved my life countless times over.”

Timidly, a Hufflepuff student raised her hand. Receiving Harry’s nod, she asked, “like what?”

“Well… Expelliarmous for one. It’s disgusting how many wizards cannot properly disarm their opponents.”

Smith snorted in disgust. “Expelliarmous? Seriously? That’s a second year spell.”

Biting back the feeling of deja-vu, Harry calmly replied. “It saved my life against Voldemort in the graveyard last June.”

A ripple flowed through the class at that. Less hesitantly, a Ravenclaw student raised his hand. “Will you be teaching any dark spells?”

Harry felt sick at the look of eager expectation on the faces before him. “No.” It was almost comical how fast their faces fell. “Look,” he raked his hand through his hair in frustration, relaxing his stance as he opened up to the class. “Voldemort told me once that there was no good or evil – only power and those too weak to use it. I don’t believe that. I have learned through pain and blood that dark spells only split and taint your soul. Once you embrace dark magic,” he thought of the tingle that raced down his wrist when he used Crucio and Imperius on Amycus in the Ravenclaw common room. “It can become addicting. I don’t… look; any spell can be light or dark depending on how it is used. I refuse to teach anyone,” he emphasized the last word, looking into their rapt faces, “spells that enable them to slice someone open, or boil someone’s blood, or take away their right to think, or any one of the terrible things many people take pleasure in.” The class look horrified at the examples Harry gave. Good. They needed to know what they would be up against. “Do you get it now?”

Not one person braved an answer. Harry nodded and moved to sit in the corner while Narcissa conducted her class. And so it went. All day Harry spoke to the different classes, the different years, letting them know his was willing to teach any who wanted to learn. Most kids looked frightened, thoughtful, or determined as they walked away. Harry hoped at least half of them would show up tomorrow. He owed it to them, to himself, and to Neville’s memory to teach them. 

Harry was exhausted by the end of the day. Mentally and physically. He wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over his head, and hide from the world for a year or two. Sighing, he was trudging up the last block of steps leading to the common room when someone shouted his name. Turning, he frowned in confusion as he saw Snape heading towards him with a grim expression.

“Harry,” he began upon reaching the boy. “Potter. I have a question to ask you.” At Harry’s nod, Snape gave him a searching look. “Why haven’t you destroyed the ring yet?” Harry blinked at his teacher in shock. Why hadn’t he? Part of the reason… well, he’d actually kind of forgotten about it with all the confusion over the holidays. Then… well… hmm. The thought occurred to him, so naturally he wondered if he’d half thought it all along. 

“I was waiting for you sir.”


	18. Blood And Love

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

Harry passed out in the chair.

Well, technically he didn’t pass out so much as fell asleep, but Snape left him in the chair anyway. After all, should anyone see himself sitting at a table with Sirius and Lupin, Snape was more than ready to pawn the whole gathering off on Harry. No way would Snape admit to owling Lupin after he had dragged Harry down to his chambers and grilled the boy until he fell asleep. No, they were all simply sitting together in a show of solidarity for Harry. Were he awake, Snape just knew Harry would appreciate the gesture. 

Harry wanted him to destroy a Horcrux. 

Snape wasn’t sure what the precise reaction to a Horcrux was, or even what a Horcrux was really, but Harry had sleepily admitted they were generally unpleasant. They focused on your insecurities, on the dark thoughts you were half ashamed of in the daylight, and used them against you. The viewer either succumbed to the darkness and despairs within, or overcame it. Snape began studying dark arts before he was Harry’s age. He had many secrets, many thoughts and memories he was more than half ashamed of, and, therefore, more to fear. Harry was insistent upon this matter, however, and no docking of house points or threats could sway him. Harry meant for Snape to destroy a Horcrux and that was that. 

“Trust me; you’re strong enough to do it.” Sirius spoke with a grim sincerity as he absently pushed his cup of tea back and forth between his cupped hands. Oh God, Snape couldn’t even blame alcohol on this impromptu gathering, as they were all depressingly sober. “I dealt with darkness for thirteen years. There’s nothing you’ve faced in your dealings with Voldemort or whatnot that could be worse than that.”

But there was. Snape knew, although the others didn’t, that it was his fault Lily and James Potter were dead. If he hadn’t have been spying that night in the Hogshead, if he hadn’t told Voldemort the half heard prophecy, then the Potter family would not have been sought out and Harry would still have his parents. How would they react, these two men long hated, gathered to reassure and bolster his flagging resolve, knowing that the key to the destruction of their era was sitting across the table from them? How would Harry react for that matter? The silence stretched as the hour grew long, and still they all sat drinking their tea. Lupin looked at Snape sharply when he opened his mouth, only to clench his jaw shut. No, he couldn’t tell them.

A knock on the door startled them, and Snape answered to see Hermione Granger clutching a familiar piece of faded parchment. “Miss Granger,” he said in surprise.

Hermione blushed. “Sorry to disturb you sir, but I was worried when Harry didn’t come back to the dorm.”

A thought struck him out of the blue, and with a jerk of his head he gestured her inside. Steering her to the table when she would have made straight to Harry, Snape sat the girl down and demanded, “Tell me what you know about what it is like to destroy a Horcrux.”

Hermione blanched before closing her eyes and heaving a deep sigh. “A what, sir?” Hermione’s voice was wavering in its attempt at innocence, and she missed the sharp look the three men exchanged over her head.

“Miss Granger,” he began warningly, only to be cut off by Sirius.

“Loyalty,” Sirius said with an approving nod into Hermione’s startled face. “You and Ron have always been fiercely loyal to Harry. It’s important to be loyal to the ones you love.” A frown marred his face, and Lupin reached over to squeeze his hand. They were both obviously thinking about Pettigrew’s betrayal of Lily and James. Snape’s eyes narrowed. 

“He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone what they were.” Hermione’s voice was quiet yet firm. She wasn’t aware of the fact she was anxiously wringing her hands. “Last time, we did it alone. Just me and Ron and Harry. It was awful, but Harry had promised Dum… well, we weren’t to tell anyone.” Titling her head, she frowned over at Harry’s prone figure in the chair. “I suppose I respect his reasons for telling people this time. After all, no one technically has told him not to say anything yet, things are so very very different, and the only ones who really know the importance of what we’re doing are still Harry, Ron, and I.” Looking oddly cheered by that less than clarifying statement, Hermione absently snagged Lupin’s tea and took a distracted sip. “I remember when I had to…” Hermione froze, eyes widening in horror at the memory that slammed into full detail in her head. 

“Remember what, Miss Granger?” Snape said silkily, eyes attempting to bore through her head. 

“I remember too. Don’t worry.” All eyes jerked to Harry, both startled by his abstract addition to the conversation and the fact that no one had been aware of him waking up. Hermione’s eyes filled with tears of relief as she looked at him. She had not relished introducing the topic to him.

“Potter,” Snape began roughly, thourally irritated at being left out of yet another cryptic musing. “You will tell me at once what you are discussing.” Sirius and Lupin nodded in agreement, both now so tense in their seats it looked as though a stiff breeze would shatter them into a million pieces. 

Harry ignored the request and the looks as he came to sit between Hermione and Snape. Placing his hand over Snape’s, Harry ignored the immediate scowl and quietly stated, “I know.” Snape felt his blood freeze in his veins. The boy knew. No, no he could not possibly know. No one knew, except the blasted headmaster and he swore he would never reveal that secret to anyone. However, here Harry sat looking lamentably calm and sympathetic, holding his hand for fuck’s sake. And as Snape stared into his eyes, Lily’s eyes, he knew with painful certainty that Harry did know. Harry knew his secret. The one secret Snape kept buried in the farthest corners of his mind. The secret that had haunted him for years. Harry knew that Snape had been the one to pass the information of the prophecy onto Voldemort; he had been the one to prematurely sentence the life of his parents.

“”You know what?” He wasn’t sure if the question came from Sirius or Lupin, but both ignored it as they stared at each other in silent communication. Snape knew from Hermione’s silence that Harry did indeed know, or else little-miss-know-it-all would have been peppering them with questions by now. The girl never did know when to shut up. “Harry?” 

Still Harry ignored the others. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring, hesitating only the barest of moments before placing it on the table. As one, everyone turned to stare. The ring looked so harmless, innocent almost, gleaming in the shallow light from the room; Slytherin crest proudly on display. But there was undeniably something about it. Something dark and feral that had Snape itching to shift in his chair. He didn’t, of course. It would ruin his reputation if people knew Snape shifted about. Harry looked around the table slowly before again looking directly at Snape. “I know from personal, painful experience,” he began in a husky tone of voice, one ripe with the pain of experience, “that you cannot move on without exorcising past demons. I do not blame you.” Snape jerked his head up sharply at that; the absolute sincerity of Harry’s gaze going a long way to quiet his internal war. “You need to do this.” Without another word, Harry nodded to his two protectors, pulled Hermione to her feet, and turned and walked away.

Snape was aware of Sirius and Lupin looking at him in confusion and slight fear after Harry’s less than reassuring response, but he continued to stare fixedly at the ring for a long moment. His heart was racing. Quietly, he called for more tea. Once refreshments had arrived, he began to talk. Haltingly; painfully; he laid his soul bare and waited for judgment.

HDHDHD

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice was tentative as they walked up to Gryffindor tower. “Do you really remember what…?”

“Yes, Hermione.” His voice was quiet. It had been a very long day, and he knew tomorrow would be equally as long. “I know exactly what you’re talking about. I’m not sure when…” he frowned down at his feet as though they were responsible for the weight upon his shoulders. “I don’t… well; I haven’t thought…” he sighed. “It will be taken care of when necessary.” At her fearful look he hastened to add, “No, I won’t have you do that again unless you feel the need to.” Hermione nodded and the two lapsed into silence. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

Harry wasn’t sure what to expect upon entering the common room, but it certainly wasn’t Ron, Ginny, Pansy, Blaise, Draco, Fred, George, and Luna, sitting up waiting for him. Although Luna didn’t look like she was waiting for him. Harry absently wondered if she even knew she was not in the Ravenclaw tower. Instead of dwelling on that question, he turned his head to look into angry gray eyes. Draco had asked that question. From the look of him, Harry was certain he was ready to jump his green eyed love if a suitable explanation wasn’t forthcoming. However it had been a brutally long day and Harry was exhausted; his little nap in Snape’s room had left him feeling groggy and sore – definitely not in the mood to be grilled. Sighing wearily, Harry ignored Draco to flop into his favorite chair in front of the fire. “What’s up guys?” Even his question sounded weary. 

Exchanging uneasy glances over Draco’s murderous expression – Malfoy’s were never to be ignored, after all – Fred and George decided to be the ones to break the sudden tense silence. “Well mate,” Fred began affably.

“It’s like this,” George picked up without missing a beat. “We decided you needed…”

“…someone to take over your little liaisons.” Somehow only Fred could make the word liaisons sound dirty and suggestive. “Therefore, we…”

“…in honor or our favorite financial backer…”

“…bravely took on the Goblin’s…”

“… and settled the arrangements to…”

“…our mutual satisfaction.”

Harry blinked. “Huh?”

Pansy laughed as Harry and the others shared identical befuddled expression. “Fred and George took over the alliance you started with the Goblins and have figured out a way to utilize them in battle.” Pansy flushed scarlet as all eyes turned to her after that interpretation. “Well, it made sense to me.”

“Exactly!” Fred beamed at Pansy. George reached over and patted her agreeably on the back. 

Harry tried to pay close attention as the twins eagerly outlined their strategy of distraction and pranks for the upcoming battle with “dear old Voldy,” but he was too tired to focus. Some part of his brain recognized surprised pleasure and amusement, but as the swell of noise grew and plans were made, broken, remade, rehashed, and fine tuned, he simply gazed at the fire. His thoughts turned instead to the classes he had spoken to all day. He was nervous for the defense meeting tomorrow night; would anyone show up? How many that did show up would need to be taught the basics over again? How were they going to get the younger kids out of the school once the fighting began? Even as Harry thought about Neville’s clever use of the Room of Requirements, an image of Colin Creevey’s lifeless body floated into his mind. Grief welled up inside of him so fast he could not blink back the tears. He simply could not allow anyone to die unnecessarily. On one hand, Harry knew that any death, all death, even from the opponent, was never unnecessary, but there was a difference between those who volunteered to fight, and those who snuck back into a battle they did not fully understand because they loved him.

Love. His “power the Dark Lord knew not.” So much evil and greatness were accomplished in the world in the name of love, how could Harry presume to manipulate it? Harry remembered the uncontrollable rush of feeling that had arisen inside him when Voldemort possessed him at the Ministry so soon after losing Sirius; he remembered the surge of emotion he’d felt the first time he looked into an enchanted mirror and saw generations of his family – HIS family – gazing back at him; and he remembered the unbelievable fire that ripped him apart as he stared at his parents gravestones while Hermione clung to his hand and wept with him. Harry had so many emotions, was capable of feeling so much, would this emotive force combined with his abstract ideas of blood curses help him defeat Voldemort a second time? The one thing Harry was proud of, in all his interactions with Voldemort, was the fact that he had never fired off the killing curse. He had survived the second battle with his soul intact… could he do it again? More important, could he convince the school not to resort to dark spells as they defended themselves, each other, and the castle?

For Harry knew with an unshakeable certainty that the final battle would once again occur on the grounds of Hogwarts. Aside from Voldemort’s threats, nothing else would bring about the sense of coming full circle, of completion. A gentle hand on Harry’s arm had him looking up sharply, only to see the others gazing at him in concern. “You ok, mate?” Ron’s voice was quiet, as though speaking too loud would somehow shatter Harry. For a moment he stared at his friend in stupefaction. Was he ok? He wanted to scream at Ron, to rage, to tell him all of his fears and concerns and have him share in the worry of the quest. But Ron, the part of the Golden Trio that had always been the glue holding them all together, the one to balance out the stress and the fear with laughter and humor, didn’t know anything of the reality of the quest Harry and Hermione were on. Harry had isolated himself away from his full support network. And hadn’t realized until this moment how desperately he needed his friends.

“I’m sorry.” Harry noted the swift exchanging of looks, the confused and worried exclamations of protest. He could not, absolutely could not, breathe as the feelings and the pressure overtook him. Without though, Harry stood up – and bolted. He left the common room and hit the stairs not knowing where he was going, not caring it was dark and cold and the middle of the night, only knowing that he could not sit in the same room with the people he loved the most, when they could neither relate nor understand him. He needed to get away. Hermione has the Marauders Map… they can find me. The thought slammed into him as he barreled out the front doors of the castle. Gesturing his wand wildly over his shoulder he hollered, “Accio Firebolt!” He didn’t stop his mad rush for the gates to wait to see if it would work; it had worked before, back in fourth year, he knew it would work now. His broom came to him as he reached the gates, and safe in the knowledge no one could find him after he left the realm of Hogwarts, he mounted his broom and took off. 

The euphoria swept through him immediately, the sheer joy that accompanied flying. He did not know where he was headed, and, quite frankly, he didn’t care. He was getting away from the concerned stares, the pressure of keeping memory away from current times, the sheer reality of having to fight Voldemort AGAIN. How could he not have considered this before swallowing that damn potion? Because Hermione and Narcissa had looked at him like he was their savior, and, once again, his emotions took over. Harry remembered Snape yelling at him, before fleeing the school with Draco after killing Dumbledore, that until he learned to close his mind and stop wearing his heart on his sleeve, he would never be successful. But in the end, it was Harry’s ability to keep his heart open, pure, intact, that saved him. He remembered the confusion and the pain of fifth year… did he really think that it would be different this time? 

The surroundings seemed familiar somehow, like he had flown or traveled this way before. Maybe second year in the car? Was he near the Burrow? Not really caring, but feeling a sense of comfort in the familiar, Harry continued on the path he seemed to recognize on some level. Twisting and turning, he lost track of how long he flew, or even where he truly was. It wasn’t until he saw the neighborhood below him he even realized where he was. The Dursley’s. Somehow, somewhere, he had crossed the line of flight Moody had taken him on so long ago, a lifetime ago, and flown in reverse; to the Dursley’s. For a minute Harry simply hovered on his broom, staring down at the house he had hated and resented for so long. Yet when he was injured, Fawkes had brought him here. Phoenixes were intelligent… Harry had been brought here for a reason. At the time, Harry figured it was to ensure his aunt and cousin hadn’t spent Christmas alone and sad, but maybe… maybe Fawkes had sensed that Harry needed answers; and had tried to present him an opportunity to ask the questions that had burned unspoken in his heart for years.

Making up his mind, Harry flew straight to the door, dismounted, and pounded on the door. A light came on, and moments later Petunia’s pale face peeked out at him. He watched the shock and confusion race across her features before the door was opened wide. “Harry?”

“Why did you keep me?” He hadn’t meant to ask the question, hadn’t really known that was the question he wanted to ask, but it flew out of his mouth before he could stop himself. 

For a moment Petunia simply gazed at him. Then, quietly, “you had better come in. Would you like some tea?” Politely, she ushered Harry into the kitchen and set him at the table before fixing tea. Once the cup was in her hands, the warmth seeping through to her fingers, she seemed to falter.

“You didn’t want me. You never liked me.” Harry was crying again, but could not seem to lift his head from staring at the table. “For years I lived in fear. Fear of Uncle Vernon, fear of not being able to control or explain the things that seemed to happen around me, fear that you would throw me out.” He swallowed, his voice trembling too bad to continue. He was horrified that he was crying in front of his aunt, but the pressure to continue speaking was simply too great to ignore. “I wanted you to love me. I wanted my parents. I wanted someone to kiss me good night, and someone to talk to when I was lonely or scared. I used to dream… about bright green light and searing pain, and riding on a flying motorcycle. Those dreams made me wake up sometimes, shaking. I couldn’t talk to anyone about them; I didn’t understand what they meant.” He finally looked at her, dimly noting the silent tears coursing down her face. “I was so excited to learn I was a wizard, and even then I wasn’t allowed to be happy. You raised me to believe I was a freak, a nobody, too horrible to even look at. Even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t talk to you about school, or my friends, or the pressure I was under. You kept me, but you never gave me a family. Why did you keep me?”

Petunia was shaking, looking at Harry as she had never looked at him before. “You reminded me of her. Of… of Lily.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, rubbing absently. “You can’t… you will never realize what is it to be a sister. No one will ever love you or hate you more than your own siblings. And Lily and I… we were so close. And then she went away, to that school, and she didn’t need me or want me anymore.” Petunia sipped her tea, looking as though every word cost her. Harry felt bad, seeing how much obvious distress she was in, but not bad enough to let her stop. “She was radiant” Petunia admitted quietly, “but she was also friends with Severus. And I knew. I knew from watching him, that magic was dark and scary and could hurt.”

Petunia fidgeted in her seat, turning her head to stare out the window. “After she met that boy, that… your father, she was so happy, so in love, and I was so jealous. She had stopped being friends with Severus the summer, maybe two summers before, and she was my sister again. We could giggle together, tell each other our secrets. It was light, and innocent, and… loving. I loved my sister.” Petunia gazed at Harry fiercely, willing him to read the truth of that sentiment in her eyes. “I loved her, and magic kept taking her away from me. I kept you, because you were crying on the doorstep the morning you arrived. I picked you up, I looked at you, and I knew. I knew she was gone, and I knew you were hers. You had her eyes.” Her smile was wistful. “Even crying, even with your head still occasionally bleeding from that” she gestured at Harry’s scar, “your eyes were vibrant.”

“I knew Vernon would resent you, and I didn’t care.” Harry looked at her in shocked disbelief, even as Petunia nodded, eyes ashamed and pleading. “I didn’t care because from that moment you were MINE. You cried when Dudley or Vernon touched you, but you never made a sound if I picked you up. You knew me, as surely as if Lily was looking at me through your eyes and knew me. And I wanted you to stay mine.” Slowly, she topped off their barely touched tea, seeming to need the monotonous actions before continuing on. “Vernon had Marge telling him to take you to an orphanage, but I had Dumbledore’s letter telling me I was the only one who could keep you safe. You were mine, and you needed me in a way Vernon or Dudley never could. One night.” She paused, closing her eyes briefly as though the memory still pained her. “One night Vernon woke up and I was in your nursery. You used to have bad dreams as a baby; you needed to be reassured. I was rocking you, and you fell asleep. I was going to put you back in your crib when suddenly I could smell her. Lily. I could almost hear her, weeping that I was the one to comfort her baby. Vernon walked into the nursery and saw me crying, still holding you even though you were asleep. The next day your crib was moved to the cupboard under the stairs.”

Harry jerked in shock at that revelation, staring at his aunt with wide eyes. She met his gaze levelly. “I am not proud of the way you were treated, but it was made very clear to me that if I were to keep you, I must not love you more than Vernon or Dudley. Ever. Vernon wasn’t an evil man,” she paused as Harry snorted. “He was a selfish man” she said firmly, “but he was not evil. He feared you, because he could see how much I loved you, how I needed you more than I ever needed him. Harry…” she seemed unsure how to continue. Tentatively, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his. She seemed relieved when he didn’t pull back. “You have no idea how powerful blood is.” Harry started, shocked by her words. He had no idea how powerful blood was? That’s all he thought about sometimes. “Harry. You were mine, you were my blood, and you needed me. Vernon knew that if he ever made me choose between you and him, you would win.” Harry stared at his aunt in absolute silence. “He knew you would win so he never made me choose. He made me deny you, he made me ignore you, but he never made me get rid of you. You were my link to my sister, and as easy as it was for me to obey him in everything else, he knew I would defy him over you. Because you were my blood.”

The silence in the kitchen once Petunia finished speaking was absolute. Harry’s head was whirling as he tried to process everything he had just been told. Petunia had loved him all along; Vernon had feared him not because he was a wizard, but because Harry had the power to destroy his family. Because of blood… and love… it all tied together. His entire life seemed to have been dictated by these two elements. Always. It kept him alive as a baby, kept him safe from Voldemort till fourth year, and even then provided Harry with the power to feel and anticipate Voldemort; keeping him alive once again. Not really aware of his actions, Harry turned his hand over and linked his fingers with his aunts. They sat that way until Hedwig soared down the chimney and landed on Harry’s shoulder, slapping him reproachfully in the head with her wing. Harry sighed as he unfurled the letter.

Harry~  
WHERE ARE YOU??? We searched the map, searched the Room of Requirements, you’re not here. Please be all right! Moony and Snuffles followed your trail to the gates of Hogwarts, but lost you after that. I know you have your broom, but Harry please. Voldemort is still alive, you have to be careful. I know you’re upset about something, and I am so so sorry if our conversation about the Goblins and war upset you further, but please come back. Draco, well, all of us actually, are freaking out. Are you ok? Please be ok! Come back, write back, do something to let me know you are ok. I love you, you stupid, stubborn, introverted man!   
Hermione

He looked up as Petunia pressed a pen and pad of paper into his hand. Quickly he scribbled a reply, but even as he helped Hedwig fly out the kitchen window, the doorbell rang. He sighed again and dropped his aching forehead onto the cool glass of the window. He didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want to feel; he simply wanted to sleep. He felt Petunia come up behind him, wrapping him in a loose embrace and kissing the back of his head. He relaxed. The doorbell rang again. After waiting for his nod, Petunia walked away. When she returned a minute later, he really was not surprised to see her accompanied by Snape. “How did you…”

“Narcissa. She followed your bloody bird.” Harry looked over Snape’s shoulder questioningly. “She cannot get past the wards surrounding your home.” Ah yes, the wards. Activated by Petunia accepting Harry, her blood, with love. The wards that even now kept Petunia protected from unknown magical energy. Blood and love, blood and love – the connection was there. How could he use it against Voldemort? Harry looked at his aunt, watching the way her shoulders were stooped lightly a she washed their tea cups and placed them to drain. She’d loved him and done her best to protect him. Had she, in part, given him the power to defeat Voldemort by that very ability? He was so confused – but he was too tired to dwell on it. 

“Aunt Petunia?” She turned at Harry’s voice, startled as he pressed a kiss to her cheek and clung just a little too tightly to her thin frame. She clung right back, shaking with barely suppressed emotion. “I… thank you… for…” She nodded, tightening her hold for a moment before pulling back and shooing him away. Harry grabbed his broom and followed blindly after Snape, falling into Narcissa’s arms the moment he reached her. He vaguely felt her apparrate them away before he snuggled deeper and fell asleep. He had no memory of returning to Hogwarts or being laid on a bed in Narcissa’s chambers. He did not know how Narcissa and Snape stood gazing at him for long moments, never felt when Padfoot jumped on his bed to stand guard throughout the night, and never heard Moony murmur reassurances to Dumbledore and his friends. He only knew that when he woke up whimpering from a nightmare, a warm body and gentle hands soothed him while soft words of comfort were whispered. He fell back asleep with a smile and dreamt no more than night.

HDHDHD

He skipped all his classes the next day and stayed in bed. 

He woke up and ate, then promptly went back to sleep. He woke up again, ate again, cuddled with Padfoot, and slept some more. When he finally woke up for good he was disoriented to find himself in an unknown bed at Hogwarts, yet realized he felt calmer and happier than he had felt in far too long. Padfoot was with him as well, so Harry figured he was ok. It wasn’t until he was halfway through eating again that Narcissa entered the room. She dismissed Padfoot with one look, and Harry felt rather betrayed as he watched Sirius amble away immediately. So much for his brave Godfather, he thought with a frown. Harry eyed Narcissa warily as she approached the bed, desperately afraid she would question or reprimand him. She did neither; stepping over to his bed and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Running fingers gently through his hair, bringing back a vague memory of the night before, she said to him in a tender voice, “If you dare to leave this school again without explicit permission from me I will lock you in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor and torture you until you beg me to kill you.” She smiled at Harry calmly when he blinked and choked on his sandwich. 

“Are we understood?” Harry nodded weakly. “Excellent! Now get up, dinner finishes in twenty minutes and then you have a lesson to conduct.” Obediently he got out of bed, keeping a cautious eye on Narcissa the entire time, and hurried to the bathroom. A quick shower, fresh clothes, and they were soon strolling down the halls of Hogwarts towards the Dining Hall. Harry wanted to run away again, he was nervous and anxious and far from relaxed at the prospect of what lay ahead of him. Narcissa stopped him outside the door, smoothing his clothes, finger brushing his hair, and speaking quietly and firmly. “You are seen as a symbol of hope, a leader, if you will.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, and waited until he met her gaze before continuing. “A Malfoy never shows fear or weakness in public. Keep it together, let them see your dignity and strength, and fall apart in private.” He nodded, taking one last deep breath. Narcissa nodded in approval, before opening the door.

The hall was packed; and dead silent.

Nearly the entire school had turned out to listen to and learn from Harry. The school sat, divided by houses, waiting in absolute silence for Harry to appear. At the front of the room, Hermione, Sirius, Lupin, Snape, McGonagall, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Charlie Weasley, Hestia Jones, and Bill Weasley stood waiting for him. Harry gave a fleeting smile to his friends as he passed them, noting the relieved expressions with a pang of guilt as he raised his hand to lightly pass over Draco’s shoulder as he passed. Harry didn’t dare stop, but walked calmly and confidently to the front of the room. Narcissa moved to stand by the other “teachers,” and all too soon Harry was facing the school. He swallowed tightly – he could not mess this up.

“Hello.” He started hoarsely, clearing his throat before continuing. “You have all come here tonight because you either think I am crazy, a threat, or an offer of salvation.” Nervous laughter speared out at this, and Harry relaxed slightly as his tension reduced. “I am not going to teach you dark spells. I will not teach you how to torture, maim, or harm another individual. Voldemort thrives on spreading discourse and fear. Once your soul has experienced the rush that comes from casting dark magic, it becomes too easy to think of spells that wound before spells that shield or disarm your opponent.” He looked around the hall slowly, not realizing the blazing look of determination on his face or the way the students unconsciously sat up straighter under it. “At some point all of you will experience tragedy from this war. Your family, your friends, your next door neighbor… there is not a single person in this room who will escape this room unscathed.”

He walked over to the Slytherin table. “Stand up and move to the back wall of you have lost a family member by Voldemort or a Death Eaters hand.” Warily, slowly, three fourth of the table stood up and moved to the back wall; Harry watched them silently, allowing no emotion on his face. He asked the same question at each remaining table, until less than one hundred students remained at their tables, and the walls around the hall were a blur of robes. “Look around,” Harry ordered quietly. “You are all students, and yet you are already united over loss and tragedy.” He paused to let this sink in, waiting until the whispers died down before continuing. “Blood and love. Two separate ideals, yet I have intimately learned that they belong together like none other. You all, even now, segregate yourselves by houses. The Slytherins,” deliberately he looked at the nearly vacant table before scanning the slightly fuller tables. “The Slytherins must be evil. After all, according to the gossip, they are ALL Junior Death Eaters in training.” 

His eyes hardened at the uncomfortable shifting and blushing faces of the students. “Yet it is the Slytherin table that has been hit the hardest. My life would be easier it I followed Voldemort.” Harry said it casually, dismissively, as though stating he liked the snow. The hall instantly went dead quiet again; all eyes trained on him in shock, even the teachers. “It would be,” he repeated. “My parents would be alive and I would not be known as the bloody Boy Who Lived. However,” he raised his voice slightly, even though not one person made a sound. “Life is not about easy, it is about choices. I will destroy Voldemort because I don’t have a choice.” Several gasps echoed around the hall at that. Harry ignored them all. “I don’t have a choice, because I choose not to embrace someone who leads with darkness and fear; because I choose to believe people are worth fighting for; and because I do not want my friends to die without the choice of living.”

He walked around the hall, challenging the students to look away. “The Slytherin kids don’t always have choices – just like I don’t.” He stopped in front of a Ravenclaw student. “Tell me,” he asked pleasantly, “what your father would say if you told him you were joining Voldemort tomorrow.”

The student went ash white, other students backing away from the trembling boy cautiously. “He… he would be angry.”

“Why?” Harry demanded.

“Because, umm, because Voldemort killed my aunt during the first war.”

Harry nodded at the student in approval. “Exactly.” Turning to a Slytherin student, he demanded. “What would your father do if you told him you were NOT joining Voldemort tomorrow?”

A sharp intake of breath was the only indication the hall was affected by Harry’s words. The Slytherin girl lifted her head defiantly. ‘He would be angry.”

“Why?” Harry demanded again.

“Because as a pureblood it is my duty to protect our heritage.” 

“Yet you are here.”

The girl’s face flushed, her head drooping slightly as though in shame. “I am here,” she whispered. 

“Why?” Harry’s voice was gentle.

The Slytherin student trembled, unable to speak. Harry waited, even as the girl squeezed her eyes shut and a tear slip down her cheek. A Hufflepuff student abruptly stepped forward and put her arm around the Slytherin student. “Because she chooses to be,” she said angrily, glaring at Harry reproachfully.

“Exactly!” Harry shouted, causing the transfixed students to jump. “She chooses to be here. Even though not being here is expected of her, even though it would make her family proud. She can’t look me in the eye and tell me she is happy to be here, because her path in life has been carefully arranged and prepared for her since birth.” Harry raked his hand through his hair, pacing in front of the students, daring them to look away - exuding so much charisma they couldn’t. Abruptly, he grabbed Padma Patil and hauled her over to Draco. “Can you make him bleed?” His tone was almost curious, belying the intensity of his gaze.

Padma recoiled as though Harry had slapped her. “No,” she whispered, horrified. Draco was eyeing him warily, but Harry ignored him for the moment and focused exclusively on Padma, knowing full well the rest of the hall was paying close attention. “Why not?” His tone was harsh, making Padma flinch even as Harry grabbed her arm and thrust her at Draco. “You won’t look at him, not once. You blame him for the death of your family member. After all, his family is rumored” Harry nearly laughed over that word “to be dark.” Harry shook Padma lightly, ignoring her whimpers as he raised her hand and pointed her wand in Draco’s face. He looked at Draco over Padma’s shoulder. He looked impassive, but was watching Harry instead of Padma; telling Harry with his eyes that he knew Harry would not allow him to be harmed.

Harry smiled slightly at Draco before dropping his voice to a seductive purr. “What would you do if you saw him on the battlefield being tortured? Would you help him… or join in? After all, if it weren’t for his family… your relative may still be alive.” Lazily, Harry dragged her wand hand closer to Draco’s face, allowing her wand to caress the smooth skin of Draco’s cheek. Draco did not move. “Doesn’t he deserve to bleed a little?”

Padma jerked violently out of Harry’s arms, eyes wide, “No,” she whispered, shaking her head so rapidly her braid slapped against her face. “No, it’s not his fault. He didn’t… he wouldn’t… no. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Harry abruptly straightened, absently pulling Draco to his side. “Good.” His voice was flat as he again walked to the center of the room, bringing Draco with him. “Look around,” he repeated. “You are not enemies, you are students. You are allies. You are friends. You do not want to learn how to kill or hurt your friends. Do you?” As though puppets on a string, all the students – and even McGonagall, Charlie and Bill – shook their heads in silent denial. “Blood and love,” he repeated. “You are all linked together, and there has been enough blood shed. The Death Eaters will not hesitate to spill your blood, for they ARE your enemy. I will teach you how to defend yourself, and I will teach you how to protect yourself. That’s all. Anyone who cannot swear not to practice, or to no longer practice, dark magic, can get out now.”

Not one student moved.

“Good,” Harry said in grim satisfaction. “Let’s begin.” Swiftly he divided the students into groups; assigning them a teacher and having them test on basic skills. Slowly, the school was divided and separated into teams based on skills instead of houses or year. Harry and Draco walked around observing and occasionally offering pointers.

“You know I’m bloody furious with you, right?” Draco’s voice was calm and pleasant. 

“I know,” Harry replied glumly.

“You know I am going to yell at you later.” It was not a question.

Harry sighed. “I figure I deserve it.”

Draco nodded and continued walking with him. Abruptly he yanked Harry into an alcove and pushed him against the wall. Harry blinked in shock, only to moan as Draco ground his hips against Harry. Threading his fingers through Harry’s hair, Draco leaned over until his lips were just brushing against Harry’s. Trying to lean closer, Harry cursed as Draco’s hands tightened in his hair, only to moan again as Draco again thrust his hips. Nearly cross eyed with lust, Harry could only groan as Draco whispered against his lips. “You know I love you.”

“I love you too,” Harry answered breathlessly, arching against Draco in a bid to get closer.

Draco smirked as he lightly bit Harry’s neck, causing Harry to gasp as the pain intermingled with the pleasure already roaring through his body. “You know if you ever run out on me again I am going to cut off your dick and feed it to your owl for breakfast, right?”

Harry froze, eyeing Draco warily as he nodded. 

“Excellent,” Draco said pleasantly, before dropping a light kiss on Harry’s lips. Stepping away, Draco straightened his hair and adjusted his robes before walking away without a backward glance. Harry stayed against the wall, blinking in shock, for a full minute before pulling himself together enough to go back to the rest of the class. He swore fluently under his breath over the uncomfortable tightness of his jeans.

Fucking Malfoy’s.


	19. Plans and Repercussions - Take 2

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

WARNING and DISCLAIMER still apply. I still own nothing *looks morosely at Harry/Draco relationship in canon* 

ADDITIONAL WARNING ~ Also known as: Rachel kills off another character. 

WOW! Sooooo many reviews for that last chap. Glad you liked it. That was a hard chap to write, because it is also a transitional chapter. Thanks!

HDHDHD

BOOM!!!!!

Harry looked at his cauldron in grim resignation. Ok, he had managed to defeat one of the greatest threats to wizard kind, survive all sorts of impossible situations, bury the one person he had ever truly loved, and travel back in time with his best friend. He could not, however, competently produce a potion. As he stood there, drenched in sticky red goop, – Red? Wasn’t his potion supposed to be clear? - Harry angrily reflected he would rather declare himself in love with Rita Skeeter than deal with potions ever again. 

“Mr. Potter,” Snape’s voice was as coldly critical as always. “Another zero for the day then? And ten points from Gryffindor for your abysmal ability to follow directions.” With a wave of his wand Snape vanished the contents of Harry’s cauldron. Harry glared spitefully up at Snape. You would think the man would be nicer now that he was obviously assisting Harry in his plans. Snape hesitated the barest of seconds as he passed by Harry to go yell at some other unfortunate student, and Harry felt something solid drop into his pocket. Startled, he glanced at Snape, only to see the man shake his head fractionally and move on. Ok… did that mean he didn’t destroy the Horcrux or that he didn’t want Harry drawing attention to the ring? Harry had never been frightfully observant when it came to Snape, but he presumed it was the latter. 

Ignoring Draco and Blaise’s chuckles, and smiling gratefully at Hermione and Pansy, who had come to siphon the corrupted potion off him, Harry surreptitiously reached into his pocket. He felt the cool smooth surface marred by a distinct crack. Snape had done it. Not really wanting to know what spell or whatnot Snape had used on the ring – he was sure it was dark and he would disapprove – Harry nodded to himself. Absently collecting his bag after class, he walked out deep in thought. It was time to get to Nagini. 

Was he ready to kill Nagini? Harry was fairly certain that as soon as he approached the snake Voldemort would know something was going on. And how would he kill her? Voldemort had the ability to possess the snake, and would surely be able to see what Harry was planning to do. Harry smiled bitterly as his thoughts transitioned from Nagini to another large evil snake he’d been forced to kill. He stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, ignoring the protesting grumbles from other students as they were forced to go around him. Gryffindor’s sword. Of course! How could he not have made the connection before? Harry had killed the Basilisk with the sword, Dumbledore had originally cracked the curse of the ring with it, and Neville had pulled it out of the Sorting Hat to kill Nagini with it during the original battle. It made perfect sense that Harry uses the sword to kill Nagini now. 

But how would he get to Nagini in the first place? Last time, Voldemort had thought himself victorious over Harry once Narcissa had assured him of Harry’s death, giving Neville the opportunity to get to Nagini. Did Harry dare wait until he was confronting Voldemort for the last time? Dumbledore said that all Horcruxes must be destroyed before he could truly kill Voldemort. Harry had followed that advice last time and it had worked. However, this time there was no Elder Wand in play – just Harry’s conviction that blood and love would somehow protect him. Thoughts whirling, the sudden dong echoing through the corridors reminded Harry that he was supposed to be getting to class. Blinking out of his reverie, Harry jolted as he came face to face with Draco, Ron, Hermione, Pansy, Blaise, Ginny, Fred and George. “Err… hello?”

“Harry,” Hermione was in full on disappointed-mother rant. “We have been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes. We are now late to class. Would you please explain to me WHY we are late for class?”

“Umm… I was thinking?”

Draco snorted. “Obviously, Potter.” His voice was cool. Obviously he was still not quite ready to forgive Harry for his flying escapade from three days ago. Jeez, you would think threatening to castrate him would make the blond feel better, Harry thought petulantly. 

Fred was looking at Harry critically. “Mate,” he began.

“… You were in some pretty deep thought there…” George piped up.

“… and if you weren’t reflecting on your blond bombshell here…”

“…you were obviously thinking about a certain stuffy…”

“…obnoxiously evil…”

“…stuck up Dark Lord. Right?”

Blaise laughed, eyeing the twins with fascination. “You know it’s rather creepy knowing there are two of you but only one brain to share.” His tone was cheerful, causing the others to laugh. Unabashed, Blaise wrapped his arm around Ginny’s waist and pulled her close, dropping a kiss on her temple. “No offense, love, but your brothers are crazy.”

Ginny sighed, shifting closer to Blaise. “None taken.” She shook her head regretfully at Harry. “It’s really not his fault you know.” Ginny was addressing the others as she jerked her head in Harry’s direction. “He’s been unofficially adopted by the Weasley family, and, well, how sane can you really expect Harry to be after being exposed to all this?” Ginny gestured at the twins and Ron, shaking her head in mock despair. 

Harry smiled weakly at the banter, unable to fully concentrate. Draco frowned at him, stepping forward and raking his hand through Harry’s hair. Gratefully accepting the proffered comfort, Harry stepped right into Draco’s arms and buried his face into Draco’s neck. His head hurt, he was tired, and he still had to figure out how to kill Voldemort’s bloody snake. As though he knew the direction of Harry’s thought, his scar gave a painful twinge. Harry tightened his hold on Draco. “Ifledanulvalmretskpe.”

He could feel the reverberation of Draco’s chuckle against his face, and wondered precisely when he became such an utter girl that he found the motion was soothing. “Harry? Perhaps you would like to try that again? Slightly more audibly this time.”

Sighing, he pushed himself away from the comfort of Draco’s arms. Wearily he looked at his friends. “I need to kill Voldemort’s snake.” Absently absorbing the shocked and horrified expressions on his friends faces, Harry noted Draco going absolutely still besides him. Harry closed his eyes, reflecting on the memory of Draco’s actions after learning he was to be used as a pawn to get Harry to Voldemort. Draco refused to acknowledge the fact that he might lose Harry. The guilt rose in him once again. He needed Draco to know, to be prepared, for the fact that Harry was going to die. Whether or not it would be permanent still remained to be seen. Turning back to his friends Harry requested. “Can we discuss this later? I really need to talk to Draco right now.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Draco’s hand and pulled him away. 

Not a word was spoken on the way to Gryffindor tower, nor as they walked through the common room and up to Harry’s dorm. Draco still refused to speak as Harry quietly warded the door to ensure their privacy. He looked sullen and unhappy, making Harry wonder if Draco knew what Harry was about to say. “Draco,” he sat next to the blond on his bed, reaching out to clasp hands. “Draco, at some point Voldemort is going to say the killing curse to me and I am going to let him.” Harry ignored Draco’s shudder and tightened the grip he help on his hands. “I am going to let him, because I have to. I have to let him kill me, or else I cannot hope of ever killing him.”

“Why?” Draco’s voice was fierce as he glared at Ron’s bed. “I recognize the fact you suck at strategy, but even for you this is twisted. Do you even realize how unbelievably fucked up you sound?”

Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair in agitation. He had never really needed to explain this to Draco before. By the time they got together as a couple, Voldemort was gone and Draco had already known about the Horcruxes from the final battle and his father’s explanations. Harry simply confirmed he hadn’t died because he had killed the part of himself that was Voldemort, and that was that. Trying to explain something so evil and dark to Draco was even harder than he thought it would be. “It’s complicated.”

Draco laughed humorlessly. “Complicated,” he repeated. “Of course. Far be it for Harry Bloody Potter to do something normal.” Yanking his hand away from Harry, Draco crossed his arms across his chest defensively. He still refused to look at Harry. Sighing, Harry pulled Draco backwards and over, pulling and tugging until they were both laying down on Harry’s bed facing each other. Draco promptly turned his face to glare at the Gryffindor insignia on Harry’s robe. 

Harry absently rubbed circles on Draco’s back while he thought of what to say. It was his turn to look away as he carefully began speaking. “Draco, what would you say if I told you that I knew I had to die because I had a piece of Voldemort inside of me, and I knew that if I didn’t destroy that section of myself that Voldemort could potentially possess me and I could turn into the next Dark Lord?” His explanation was rushed, and as he stared at the headboard he could feel Draco’s sharp gaze on his face. 

“Why wasn’t Hermione surprised you needed to destroy the tiara and necklace?”

Harry was so startled by the unexpected question; he turned his gaze to Draco. “What?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed as he searched Harry’s face. “That day in the chamber, when you had Ron and I destroy those… things. Hermione was not surprised by your explanations. She seemed oddly resigned and relieved at the same time.” Draco’s voiced softened dangerously, coaxing a response from Harry. “Why would she seem relieved Harry?”

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. Apparently in order to get Draco to accept Harry’s certainty of death, he would need to elaborate. The time had come to tell Draco the full truth. “Draco… I am not really fifteen. Well, I am, but I am also twenty. Err… that is I’m fifteen but I have memories of being twenty.” Well done Harry, he reprimanded himself silently. Opening his eyes, meeting Draco’s bewildered and suspicious gaze, Harry pressed his forehead against Draco’s and tried again. 

“Draco, I have already defeated Voldemort.” He felt Draco stiffen, clearly thinking Harry had gone mad, but Harry continued on resolutely. “You and I didn’t get together until several months after I had killed him. Hermione was the one who actually got us together,” Harry smiled slightly at the memory. “I defeated Voldemort in what should have been my seventh year at Hogwarts. I defeated him with your wand, which I stole from you after Ron, Hermione, and I had been kidnapped and brought to Malfoy Manor.” Draco jerked in his arms, and Harry absently resumed rubbing soothing circles as he organized his thoughts. “You had already taken the Dark Mark,” he met Draco’s wide eyes calmly. “Like I told the students the other day; I’m not the only one whose life is dictated by circumstance and choice.”

Pulling Draco closer and tangling their legs together, Harry continued. He told Draco about the Elder Wand, the Horcruxes, the curse on the Dark Mark, the death of Ron, Lucius, and Draco, Hermione’s plan, and coming back in time to try again. Draco listened attentively, not saying a word until Harry finished. Even then they continued to lie there in silence as Draco tried to make sense of what he had just been told. “Why did you decide to tell me this now?” At Harry’s cautious smile Draco frowned. “I’m not saying I believe you – Christ Harry, if you were me would you believe you? I just… why did you decide to tell me this now?”

Harry sighed, tightening his hold on Draco briefly before sitting up. Draco mimicked him, and they sat facing each other warily. “I need you to let me die.”

Draco went ash white, leaping off the bed. “Harry, what the fuck? You need me to LET you die? How can you sit there and… what…?” Draco was shaking as he glared down at Harry.

Pulling him back down, Harry managed not to sigh as Draco shifted to the other end of the bed; putting as much distance between the two as possible. “Draco, please…” Harry caught his breath and started over. “Draco, you have to let me die. I NEED to die to get rid of the portion of Voldemort trapped inside me. I can’t… I need to walk into battle with Voldemort knowing I am going to die and being ok with it. I can’t think of you.” Harry shrugged helplessly, not even trying to wipe the tears away from his eyes. “If I think of you, of your reaction, I won’t be willing to die. I need to be willing to die or else…” He closed his eyes, finishing his thought in the barest of whispers. “Or else I may not be able to survive.”

Draco’s voice was unfathomable as he stated, “so I need to let you walk away, walk to Voldemort, knowing you’re going to die, and be… what, exactly? Happy? Accepting? Relieved? Shall I prepare a gift basket for the Dark Lord in celebration of his murdering you?” 

Harry realized with a start that Draco had tears in his own eyes. Feeling absolutely wretched, Harry finished what he started. “Not happy, I hope. But I need to know that you accept the fact I need to die. I need to know you won’t stop me. I need to know that you know how very much I love you and that if there were any other choice I would never leave you.”

Draco stared at Harry, searching his face. His voice was fierce as he ordered, “you will NOT die.” Harry opened his mouth to wearily protest but Draco cut him off. “If you must die to kill… whatever… it is that He put inside you, then fine.” He glared at Harry, looking violent and dangerous. “But you will not stay dead or so help me I will find a way to bring you back so I can kill you myself.” Harry felt relief rush through him at Draco’s acceptance of the situation, but Draco wasn’t done. “I will contact your spirit and haunt you. I will torture you. I will hunt everyone you ever loved and kill them so they can tell your spirit how utterly furious I am with you. You will never know a moment’s peace...” Harry shut Draco up by leaning over and kissing him.

Pushing Harry backwards onto the bed, Draco took control of the kiss as he lay sprawled over him, straddling Harry’s hips. Harry didn’t protest, needing the contact as much as Draco did. Abruptly Draco lifted his head. “You are mine,” he said fiercely, gray eyes glittering with emotion. It reminded Harry abruptly of sitting in the kitchen with Aunt Petunia, her eyes intent upon him as she uttered the same sentiment. Did having Draco give him even more reassurance? “What are you thinking of?” Draco demanded suspiciously.

“Blood and love.” Harry answered absently, immersed deep in his troubled thoughts. “Aunt Petunia.”

Draco pointedly looked down, noting how tightly their bodies were wound together, before looking back at Harry. Dryly, “Yes, I can see how now is the perfect moment to start thinking about your aunt.” Harry stared at Draco in absolute shock for a moment before he started to laugh. Then they were both laughing – deep, belly aching laughs that made their entire bodies tremble from the sheer force of emotion. As they clung together, laughing and kissing, Harry realized he was no longer worried about defeating Voldemort. He had Draco. 

Now he just needed to kill the damn snake. 

HDHDHD

Ultimately, it was Draco who came up with the idea.

The Group – as they now referred to themselves – was gathered in the Slytherin common room later that night. Luna was ambling about, occasionally commenting upon the fact that Harry and Draco were both protected by their parents blood, while the others discussed battle plans and Harry’s need to kill Nagini. Harry was staring at Luna, absently wondering where in his explanations of choices and circumstances Luna had gotten confused, when Draco pulled everyone’s attention to him.

“We can have my father take us to where Nagini is.” Draco spoke thoughtfully, absently tapping his chin with his finger as he thought. He did not appear to notice when everyone turned their attention to him, the silence only occasionally interrupted by Luna’s dreamy ramblings. “He will be summoned to Voldemort’s side soon – it’s been too quiet lately – and when that happens, we’ll go with him and get the snake.”

Harry stared at Draco, amazed at the simplicity and the brilliance of the plan. As part of the Inner Circle, Lucius could get him closer to Voldemort than anyone. Wait… “Us?”

Draco glared as Harry. “Yes,” he replied coldly, sounding so much like his father in the graveyard after Voldemort’s rebirth than Harry had to actively work to suppress a shiver of unease. “Us. If you expect me to be ok with your half brained plan to rid yourself of what could very well be a manifestation of your imagination, I will need to know when that happens. It will not happen when you kill the snake. I will ensure that.”

The others looked rather disconcerted at the conversation, but as Harry met Hermione’s look and gestured towards his scar, she gave a soft “oh” of comprehension. “Actually Harry,” her voice was thoughtful as she began assimilating the details in her head. “It would be a good idea if you had someone there with you. Someone to watch your back while you,” her nose wrinkled in distaste “destroy Nagini.”

As though anticipating the others protests at being excluded, Draco raised a hand commandingly. Even now, Harry had to smile as how only Draco could calmly sit before an audience and regally discuss murder and espionage as though there was not the slightest thing out of the ordinary about the situation. “You all cannot come. Harry and I can apparrate with my father, but do you really not think more than two people will go undetected?” The others frowned, muttering, as the validity of Draco’s statement sunk in.

Undaunted, Fred and George exchanged a glance and began speaking. “Harry, you know…”

“…you always fall down when your scar burns…”

“…might inconvenient timing, I say…”

“…quite. Seeing as you will need to move quickly…”

“…a distraction might be needed to ease the way…”

“…and we still have old Mad Eye’s cloak…”

“…nicked it back from Charlie…”

“…came in right handy when sneaking out for…”

‘’… Goblin liaisons and all.” Fred beamed at Harry.

“You have Moody’s cloak?” Ron sounded envious.

Pansy nodded at Ron distractedly, mind spinning. “Yeah, they took it from Charlie shortly after Christmas.” Ignoring the others smirks, she excitedly turned back to Draco. “You are going to have to help Harry, but the twins can go with Snape and set off a distraction so Harry can get close enough to Nagini to kill her without Voldemort becoming aware of the situation.” Harry stared at Pansy in surprise. He had forgotten completely that Snape would be there. 

“But how would you get away if something went wrong?” Harry’s voice was anxious. He did not want anyone else to get hurt. 

“Harry,” Ginny’s voice was sarcastic as she addressed him. “The twins can apparrate. They need Snape to get to the correct location, but they will have no problem getting themselves out of there.” She turned and gave her brothers such a Mrs. Weasleyish scowl their smiles slowly faded. “Right?” She questioned fiercely. They nodded obediently. 

Draco smirked as the plans began flying. “Excellent.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~~*~**~*~~*~**~~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ultimately it was another week before the summons came. 

Having been staying in Snape’s chamber, there was the barest of time lapses between collecting the boys and apparrating out. The minute Harry’s feet touched the ground, a hand slapped over his mouth to smother his involuntary whimper. His head was on fire. He wanted to vomit but knew he couldn’t. Shaking, he clung to Draco as his knees threatened to buckle, sucking in deep breaths. He was dimly aware of Draco’s arms around him, supporting him, giving him this time to adjust. Finally, Harry managed to get a grip on the pain and open his eyes. Looking around, he immediately wished he hadn’t.

There were only about twenty people present; heads bowed as they listened to Voldemort address his plans to kill somebody in about three weeks on Valentine’s Day. Harry could not focus enough to listen to the plans, and looked around desperately; searching for Nagini while keeping a hand firmly clamped over his scar. He felt as though if he moved his hand his head would fall off. That would never do. Especially not here. There! Coiled up on a stone table behind Voldemort’s left shoulder, Nagini lay watching silently, tongue lazily flickering out as she tasted the air around her. Nudging Draco, Harry slowly started forward.

Again, he was grateful for Draco’s presence. Harry was shaking from the pain and horror rolling around inside him, only the warmth of Draco’s body grounding him and keeping him alert. They were close, so close, close enough that Nagini abruptly lifted her head and looked around as the air shifted and she could taste something new. Draco jerked in shock next to him, and Harry glanced at him curiously only to see the blonde’s attention firmly centered on Voldemort as he outlined his plans. He didn’t have time for this. Irritated, Harry elbowed Draco, ignoring the look of dull horror in his eyes, and brought his attention firmly back to Nagini. Agitated, she started to shift, slowly moving towards Voldemort as he stood talking to his Death Eaters. 

And the world exploded.

It took Harry a full minute of shock, his light exclamation of surprise thankfully buried underneath the noise and shouting, before he realized the world had not, in fact, exploded. For the second time in his life Harry watched Dragons and other shapes whirl around his head – Fred and George had released their fireworks. Harry paused, taking a moment to reflect with pride over the twins’ mischief making ability. Voldemort moved forward, angry at his Death Eaters inability to properly vanquish the pesky interruption. Seizing the opportunity, Harry pulled the sword from underneath his robe and moved forward. Nagini froze as Harry reached her, staring at him in silence. Harry wondered vaguely if she smelled her master on him and was confused, even as he brought the sword down and sliced across the neck of the snake. 

Harry had not been prepared for the sickening jolt that accompanied the act. Didn’t expect the feeling or sound of bones breaking and taut muscles ripping apart. Nagini looked Harry in the eye… and the memories slammed into him. He remembered watching the snake slither past the groundskeeper of the Riddle mansion, remembered Nagini slithering around the gravestones the night Voldemort regained a body. Harry remembered the way it felt to look at the world through her eyes, the way it felt to bite Arthur Weasley and absorb the delicate sweetness of his blood. He remembered looking Nagini in the eye as the snake possessed Bathilda, and watching Voldemort levitate Nagini’s cage over Snape’s head. Harry felt the memories sucking him in, and, without thought, he screamed and sliced Nagini’s throat again. Feeling nothing but intense satisfaction as her head rolled off and hit the floor. Lifting his eyes from Nagini’s still twitching body, Harry looked up into shocked gray eyes.

And Voldemort turned around.

Harry had a fleeting moment to watch the man’s eyes widen in shock before his scar exploded. Clenching his hand tightly around the sword, Harry screamed at the pain ripping into his brain. He felt Draco reach out and grab him before he hit the floor, and managed to crack his eyes open in time to see Voldemort raise his wand. “No…” he begged, trying to lift his wand in return. He had to protect Draco. Harry heard Draco cry out as Voldemort whirled around and ducked to avoid a curse, and then a pale freckled face was gripping his arm tightly.

“We have to go!” He heard Fred – George? – shout. Harry was barely aware of returning to Hogwarts before his scar seemed to explode on his head and he was sucked into Voldemort’s mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

Shaking in fury, he stared at his snake, his Nagini. Why had the boy gone after Nagini?

Furious, he pointed his wand at the figure on the ground, feeling immense satisfaction at the pained screams. Harry smiled grimly. The man’s resistance was low indeed if he could not control his reaction to the Cruciatus curse. Releasing the spell, he watched the twitching figure. “You dared to try and curse me.” It was not a question so much an accusation.

Lucius raised his head, trembling from pain, but a defiant fire burning in his eyes that caught Voldemort by surprise. “Yes,” he answered proudly. “You would have attacked my son.” Lucius glared at the man he had called Lord for so long, infusing as much hatred in his voice as possible. “I will die before I allow you to harm my family.”

Harry stared at Lucius, his follower, for a moment, before a cruel smile crossed his lips. “Oh but Lucius,” he said softly, even as he continued to smile. “I already have.” He watched the look that crossed Lucius’ face with interest. Fear, worry, and ultimately, acceptance. Smiling broader, Harry raised his arm and almost happily cried out “Avada Kedavra!” He watched in satisfaction as Lucius’ body jerked slightly before going still. Walking forward, he lazily kicked the body on the floor, feeling a surge in satisfaction as he stared into empty gray eyes. So like his son’s. His son – Draco. Who had apparently taken his orders a little too literally and gotten closer than allowed to Harry Potter.

Harry Potter. Turning, he looked again at the carcass of his snake. He felt an unpleasant emotion rise in his chest as he stared at his beloved pet. Not grief, he was not capable of grief. No, this emotion was similar to one he had had when Harry Potter had stood under a golden canopy with him. Something that shook his certainty that the boy would be easy to kill. Still gazing at his snake, Harry hissed, “Severus.”

“My Lord?”

Turning, he watched as his loyal Death eater stepped forward. He saw the slight glance at Lucius’ prone form, the paler than normal complexion. Good, Harry thought, Snape was as disgusted by Lucius’ behavior as he was. Calmly, he stated, “you will find a way to get us past the wards of Hogwarts. We will meet at the gate, you will let us in, and then we will destroy Harry Potter and Dumbledore once and for all. You will do this immediately.”

Snape jerked his head in a stiff nod. “Yes, My Lord.”

“Good,” Harry stated in vicious satisfaction. “Macnair; Rookwood; Lestrange.” The figures stepped forward silently at their names. “Drop off this gift at Malfoy Manor.” Turning back to Snape as his followers obediently began completing their orders, “Go now. Back to Hogwarts. Remain inconspicuous and observe. You have two weeks to figure out how to get past the wards. Dumbledore will fall. Harry Potter will fall.” Snape nodded at once, and disappeared immediately. Harry ignored his assembled followers, dismissing them with a wave of his hand, and turned to look again at the carcass of Nagini. 

Why had the boy gone after Nagini?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

Harry opened his eyes and promptly shut them again, blinded by pain and tears. 

Rolling over, he vomited over the edge of the mattress. Feeling cool hands on his back, the nausea swelled violently and he vomited again. “Harry…” he could hear the fear, the concern, in the voices around him. There was so much noise. Was it all outside his head? 

Opening his eyes again, Harry ignored The Group as they lumped around his bed, focusing exclusively on Draco. Harry was sweating, crying, shaking as he reached out and gripped Draco’s wrist, staring into horrified gray eyes. “Your dad…” Gray eyes widened, even as Draco shook his head in mute denial of Harry’s unspoken statement. Suddenly Snape was there, pushing Draco away, forcing Harry’s attention as he poured a vial down his throat. Harry choked as the potion coursed into his system. He knew the taste of this potion – Snape had doused him with Dreamless Sleep. “No,” he fought against the rising blackness, reaching for Draco, desperate for him to understand.

He vaguely heard Snape ordering his friends away, Madame Pomphrey joining in and ushering them away from his bed. Snape was talking to Draco. Harry forced his eyes open, fought against the seductive pull of sleep, and tried to reach his love as a shocked pained cry passed Draco’s lips. Draco’s head turned, staring at Harry – pleading with him to deny what Snape was telling him. A flash of blonde hair as someone else entered the area around Harry’s bed, and Harry succumbed to the potion shutting down his senses. He was still reaching for Draco, even as he heard Narcissa wail. Then everything was mercifully silent and still.


	20. Realizations

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

WARNINGS and DISCLAIMERS still apply. I have no money. At times I feel I have no life. Were I connected to the HP universe - I would have both money and a different life.

HDHDHD

It had been a draining week.

Between organizing Lucius’ funeral, dealing with all the transfers of funds and properties, and preparing Draco for his new role as Lord Malfoy; Narcissa was exhausted. Dreams kept her awake, emotions left her feeling raw and unable to eat properly, and watching her son grieve for his father left her feeling fragile and strained. Work was a welcome distraction, as the kids were either too intimidated or too polite to address her loss. But now it was Saturday – no children to teach, no papers to grade, no welcome routine to fall back on. She was alone today. 

Gazing out the window of her room, Narcissa could see Harry and Draco flying about over the Quidditch Pitch. She watched, smiling faintly, as Harry deliberately provoked her son, encouraging him to chase and laugh and be silly. Harry was good for Draco; he was able to help him in a way she could not. She was worried about Harry as well – he had not allowed himself to truly deal with Lucius’ death. Knowing Harry, he somehow blamed himself. Turning away, Narcissa frowned as that thought struck her: Like herself, Harry had too many memories to deal with, so he shoved them away. Memories. Gently, Narcissa reached out and traced the circle formed by the Pensieve. She had pulled it out, placed it on her desk, and then proceeded to ignore it for the last seven days. Narcissa had not told anyone the memories she had received that day from Harry. Feeling a sudden desperate need to review them, Narcissa carefully stirred the swirling mass with her wand, took a deep breath, and entered. 

It was her wedding day. There was Lucius – so handsome and proud, standing next to a calm and glowing version of herself. Even on this day their lives were already shadowed by darkness, Narcissa reflected, noting the assembled Death Eaters that had been guests. Now Narcissa was standing in a hospital, watching herself hold a tiny infant. Lucius sitting on the edge of her bed staring down at young Draco with fierce pride and love. The memories flashed by – alternately shattering and healing Narcissa’s heart as she watched her family evolve. Then came memories she had no real memory of. On her knees before Severus Snape, begging him to protect her only son. Reaching out to lightly grasp her husband’s wrist, offering support and dignity, when he was asked to hand over his wand to Voldemort. Kneeling over the prone figure of Harry Potter, feeling his heart beating beneath her palm, hearing him tell her Draco was alive and at the castle – then watching the way Harry circled Voldemort with a cold confidence, not really caring as the Dark Lord fell before feeling the rush of relief as she finally reached her son. Watching Draco fall apart after the end of the war, feeling so helpless and lost, only to come alive again with Harry. Watching her husband and son waste away before her eyes as the poison spread through their system… standing over gravestones in a cold empty graveyard, clinging to Harry Potter for support and comfort. Feeling so tired she did not want to get out of bed until she realized Harry needed her as desperately as she needed him… she still had a family. And finally, listening to Hermione plead with Harry to go back and start over; hoping to spare so many lives. 

Narcissa rose from the Pensieve with a gasp, desperate to leave that last memory. For even then, as she watched Harry and Hermione, she realized that all the Narcissa from the memory felt was a wild hope and longing that they would be able to save her son. She hadn’t believed that Lucius would survive, Narcissa reflected now. She had no way of knowing what the Narcissa from her future really believed, but the careful and notable lack of memories of Lucius convinced the Narcissa of today that her husband had struggled to throw off the temptation of darkness. A noise in the doorway had Narcissa raising her head, finding herself gazing at Harry as he stood in the doorway. Confused, she noticed he was alone, and clutching a cup and a sword. Keeping her face deliberately blank, she calmly asked, “Draco?”

Harry grimaced. “He only allows himself to be happy for a few minutes at a time. He went off to help Severus make some potions.” Harry walked into the room and carefully set the cup and sword on the desk next to her. Narcissa raised a brow in question as he looked at her searchingly. “May I speak to you for a moment?” Nodding her ascent, Narcissa watched Harry gather himself together.

“I’m sorry about Lucius.” Narcissa was suddenly grateful for her training of Malfoy etiquette, as she managed to stop herself from flinching at that unexpected conversation starter. “I didn’t know him that well, nor did I really like him.” Harry’s eyes widened as he said that, and Narcissa found herself smiling at the blush that spread across his face.

“Indeed, very few people knew Lucius well enough to like him.” Her tone was amused and understanding. “Those who did…” she faltered briefly before continuing on softly. “He was very protective of his family. You may have noticed that Draco is not as well versed in Dark Arts as his father. Lucius knew he could not keep his son and heir away from the Dark Lord, but he tried to allow Draco to grow up as sheltered as possible.” Narcissa smiled sadly as Harry nodded.

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking conflicted and unsure of himself. “A piece of Voldemort’s soul is in this cup.” Whatever Narcissa had been expecting Harry to say, it clearly wasn’t that. She blinked at him in confusion as he continued. “Hermione reminded me that it still hadn’t been destroyed. I, well,” he frowned, “every other one I have had a reason to have someone destroy it. Draco, Ron, Snape… well, it seemed right. I didn’t know what to do with this one, so it’s just been sitting in Hermione’s purse.” Harry stopped, rubbing the back of his neck in agitation. “It seems fitting to let you do this one.”

Narcissa gazed down at the cup on her desk. She could feel something was different about it, almost as though it seemed to pulse with life. “This is the cup we removed from Bella’s vault.” Her tone was thoughtful. “How did my sister come into possession of a cup containing the Dark Lord’s soul?”

Harry sighed. “It’s only a piece of his soul. He gave it to her to hold onto. Bellatrix,” no way was he comfortable enough to resort to nicknames, “had no idea what it was. Only that it was valuable. I can’t kill Voldemort until I destroy all his… relics.”

Narcissa gave Harry a sharp look. “You think you are able to destroy him again?”

Harry looked startled at her words, but nodded nonetheless. “Yes.”

She nodded, looking at the cup thoughtfully. Truthfully, Narcissa had never been happier than she had been this last year. Even with her husband once again in the Dark Lord’s service. She knew her son was safe, and Harry had provided her with an opportunity to spend more time with Draco than ever. She stared at the cup, feeling anger and grief spill out of her aching heart. Her husband, with all of his faults, had always done his best to protect his family. And Voldemort had destroyed that. Voldemort had ripped a section of her heart out, broke something inside of her son, and permanently altered the lives of many with his selfishness and need for retribution. 

With these thoughts running through her head, Narcissa snarled suddenly and grabbed the sword. She could feel images wanting to push into her brain but ruthlessly shoved them aside. Not allowing herself time to pause, time to think of the improbability of her action, Narcissa raised the sword and drove it down into the cup with a shriek. A powerful jolt of electricity seemed to flare up at the contact. Narcissa could feel it – creeping up her arms, running through her body, to escape out her head and through the soles of her feet. She gasped, back arching, as the feeling peaked and then slowly abated. Coming back down into herself, Narcissa took several heaving breaths before turning to look at Harry.

He looked shocked. And a little frightened. Narcissa suddenly found herself laughing; riding high on the adrenaline pulsing through her system. She felt light, she felt vindicated, and she felt strong and aware. Narcissa knew in that moment that Harry would win again, and would go on to bring about acts of greatness in his life. “Thank you,” she said simply, smiling at the slightly wary look he was giving her. Really, what must she look like? Throwing the sword carelessly back down on the desk, Narcissa reached up to smooth her hair, only to discover it standing up in a fluffy web of static electricity. Oh. She probably looked deranged. No wonder Harry appeared to be fighting the urge to run away from her. 

“I’m off to make myself appear slightly more presentable.” With a nod, Narcissa swept regally towards the door. She may look psychotic, but that was no excuse to fall back on her manners. Pausing at the door, she turned to look back. Harry was scooping the shattered remains of the cup into a jar, and carefully attaching the sword to his belt. “Harry.” He turned and looked at her. Holding his gaze, Narcissa raised her head and stared down her nose at him. “You WILL save my son.” Her voice was flat, fierce, allowing for no argument. Harry looked back at Narcissa steadily before nodding again. Smiling, she curtsied slightly before walking towards her bedroom.

It was time to make plans of her own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been a week since Harry Potter killed Nagini.

Voldemort was furious, his numbers weakened as he took his imbalanced emotions out on his followers. He demanded blind obedience. The fact that it had been Lucius Malfoy, one of his most trusted and devout Death Eaters, enraged him like nothing else. Lucius had allowed Harry Potter to breach his wards and come close to Voldemort – close enough to kill. Rather than killing the boy however, Lucius had allowed his son to befriend the brat and escape after killing Nagini. The fact that Lucius was now dead was of no consequence. Voldemort was furious. And yet… there was an odd sort of tickling, a sense of disquiet, burgeoning in his brain. 

Why had the boy gone after Nagini?

Could he know… could he have guessed… did he suspect the greatest of Lord Voldemort’s secrets? The one secret not even his most loyal knew about? Abruptly, he stood, calling as he walked, “Dolohav.”

Dolohov rushed to his side, bowing his head in supplication. “My Lord?”

“You will accompany me.” Voldemort offered no information and Dolohov was smart enough not to question. Silently he placed his hand on Voldemort’s arm, forcing himself to relax during the side-along apparition. Voldemort gazed up at the cliffs, remembering with pleasure when he had tricked two spoiled children to accompany him down to the cave below. He remembered little Amy, her big blue eyes swimming with tears as he forced her to walk into the ocean. He remembered the sound of her whimpers and pleas as the water rose, only calling her back out once her head had been fully immersed for half a minute. She had walked out, choking on water and tears, and Voldemort knew with absolute certainty that he was destined for greatness. Muggles were weak and foolish and spoiled. And he had the power, the right, to control them.

With a flick of his wrist, Dolohov’s arm split open, blood pooling out in glistening red drops. He had Dolohov open the secret wards protecting the cave from anyone unfortunate enough to come down here, before healing the gash and proceeding forward. Voldemort remained silent and focused as he called up his boat, his eyes hardening with determination as they reached the island where the glistening goblet awaited. He smiled fondly down at the shiny surface of the potion, reflecting with pride on his brilliance and ingenuity. Conjuring a cup, he turned to Dolohov, noting with approval that while the man was shaking and terrified he had yet to utter a word of protest. Such a good Death Eater, Voldemort reflected. It was a shame, really. 

“Drink.” He commanded softly, holding out the cup.

Dolohov seemed to accept the cup automatically, looking at the shimmering liquid before him in fear. “M –My Lord?”

“Drink.”

Trembling, Dolohov dipped the cup and filled it to the brim. He sniffed the potion, looking up once into Voldemort’s hard eyes, and downed the glass rapidly. He seemed relieved when there were no immediate effects, and smiled hesitantly. The smile vanished when Voldemort nodded his head at the goblet and said, “Continue.” He stood there, watching Dolohov drink the potion obediently; ignoring the screaming and pleading and twitching form. Calmly, he placed the Imperius curse, forcing Dolohov to continue until the barest scraping of liquid remained. Glancing dismissively at the broken man at his feet, Voldemort stepped over the body and looked down in relief at the locket securely resting at the base of the goblet. The locket was safe. Voldemort sighed in satisfaction and turned to go when he suddenly caught sight of the locket in full detail.

The boy knew.

Shock and rage slammed into Voldemort so fast, so uncontrollably, that he was abruptly reminded of the time when he had no body. After his killing curse had backfired over Harry Potter, and he had been ripped from his body, condemned to exist in a sea of feelings he could not control. With a visible effort, he reigned in his emotion and grabbed the locket. Opening it, he saw the parchment. Reading quickly, his eyes narrowed further in contemplation. Turning to the lake, Voldemort called out commandingly. “Show yourself young Black.” 

With the barest of ripples, the water parted to reveal the lifeless form of Regulus Black hovering just above the surface. A cruel smile graced Voldemort’s lips. The boy did not know his secret. One of his faithful followers, one of the superior purebloods which would help to rid the world of vile useless Muggles, had attempted to understand his Lord’s secrets. And died for it. Satisfied, Voldemort nodded to the moaning form continuing to twitch at his feet. “A gift, if you will.” Without a backward glance Voldemort climbed into the boat and left the cliffs. He had a meeting to conduct and battle plans to finalize. 

It was not until later that evening that he allowed himself to acknowledge the tickle still itching the back of his mind. Frowning, he mused that tomorrow he would go search, just to be safe. The boy did not know, could not know, but perhaps one of his Death Eaters, with false images of grandeur dancing in their heads, had tried to find his secrets? Yes, Voldemort decided. Tomorrow he would search, and tomorrow he would know. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was amazing how safe a kiss could make him feel.

Harry was having the best dream ever. Draco was in bed with him, carefully removing Harry’s t-shirt and dropping kisses over his chest. Harry moaned at the sensation, moving his arms and legs restlessly, and could almost swear he could hear a quiet chuckle and Draco gently calling his name. “Ssh,” Harry murmured irritably, “I’m having the best dream.” Frowning over the fact that even in his dreams Draco was distracting, Harry sighed and arched his neck as that clever mouth resumed placing gentle kisses. Shuddering with pleasure as the kisses became little bites, Harry lifted his arms and stroked down the sides of the warm body on top of him. It wasn’t until he felt the rumble of laughter against his neck that Harry opened his eyes. Immediately, he recognized two things.

Draco Malfoy was in his bed, and he was not dreaming.

“Draco!” He yelped, bucking in surprise, only to yelp again when Draco latched onto his arms to avoid being tossed off the bed. “What are you doing?!”

“Be quiet Harry!” Draco hissed, swearing as he readjusted his balance. “Jesus, are you trying to wake your roommates?”

At those words, Harry glanced around swiftly. Swearing as he only recognized a vague mass of red and gold, he reached for his glasses. As proper sight returned, Harry immediately recognized two more things. He was indeed in Gryffindor tower, and Draco was lying in bed with him completely naked. It took a few minutes, but eventually Harry managed to shake himself out of his trance and reach over Draco to pull his drapes shut. Swearing, Harry reached for his wand and cast a silencing spell over the area before tossing his wand back on the night table and lying back down. “Draco,” he began, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the blonde’s face. “Not that I mind, but what are you doing here?”

Draco snorted. “You think of your aunt when we’re kissing, and question what I am doing in your bed… in the middle of the night… sans clothing.” He shook his head at Harry in amusement. “Are you trying to tell me something here?”

“No!” Harry ground out between clenched teeth, flushing at the implications behind Draco’s words. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…” he raked his hand through his hair in agitation. “It’s just that it’s only been a week since your dad… I mean, I don’t want you to be here like this just because you’re… I miss you, oh God I’ve missed touching you… are you sure you want to do this now?” Harry knew he wasn’t making much sense, but since returning to his fifth year and initiating his relationship with Draco, he had been very careful and cautious with how things progressed between the two of them. Stolen hours kissing and caressing, exploring each others body, were amazing and tempting, but he didn’t want Draco to decide to move forward simply because he was grieving. As sappy and ridiculous as that sounds, Harry thought in self disgust.

“Harry,” Draco leaned forward and kissed him gently, coaxing Harry to open his mouth, slipping his tongue inside and kissing him thoroughly before pulling away. “I want to be here.” He stopped Harry’s protest by placing his hand over Harry’s mouth. “I want to be here,” he repeated firmly. “I know you’re worried about why, but it is because I want to be here.” Draco hesitated, his voice dropping to a whisper. “A week ago you told me I had to let you die. I had to let you go. I told you I would not allow you to die and I mean it.” He tightened the hand over Harry’s mouth and continued firmly. “I mean it, Harry. But right now, I need to know that you’re alive. I need…” Helplessly he shrugged, meeting Harry’s gaze with swimming gray eyes. And Harry was lost.

Kissing the hand over his mouth, Harry removed it and pulled Draco down to him. Turning slightly, Harry carefully laid Draco next to him, wrapping one arm around the blonde’s waist, the other tangling in his silky hair, before leaning forward slightly and kissing him. Draco responded immediately, pulling Harry so he half lay on top of him and wrapping both arms around Harry’s waist. Harry gave himself over completely to the emotions swirling inside of him, lowering his head to nuzzle the pale nipples on Draco’s chest.

There was no time for a gentleness neither of them wanted. Passion set its own rules. There was no fumbling as Harry swiftly removed his pajama pants, both of them groaning as warm flesh met and melded together. Touching Draco, exploring the taut flesh of his chest and shoulders, Harry felt a new sensation rise up inside of him. Possession. For now, for the moment, they belonged to one another; they owned each other absolutely. And they were flesh to flesh without barriers, naked and hungry and tangled together. 

Draco’s breath was coming in whimpers as he urged Harry’s mouth back to his. Harry smirked against Draco’s skin, ignoring the hands tugging frantically at his hair to pause at Draco’s throat. There was a hint of roughness at Draco’s chin; his cheekbones were long and smooth. Deliberately ghosting their mouths together, Harry blew lightly over Draco’s damp skin, absorbing the shiver, even as he moved to suck gently under Draco’s ear, over that spot that tasted so mysteriously male. Their lips joined again – finally – in a hot, desperate demand as their bodies strained even closer together. 

Harry felt strong, more powerful than it seemed possible for him to be. His energy was boundless, drawn from the need to have, the need to give. He could feel himself burning, waves of heat rising from his toes; concentrating into balls of fire over his lungs until he was certain he would explode from the pressure. He pulled away to stare at Draco, noting the flushed face and tousled hair even as Draco opened his eyes. Green eyes met gray, both swirling with too many emotions to count. “I love you.” Neither was aware who said it first, both meaning it with equal fervor. Even as their bodies moved together, their mouths met slowly this time, to linger, to savor. They drew away once, far enough to see the need mirrored in each other’s eyes, and then they joined again, flame for flame. 

Harry lay wrapped in Draco’s arms for a long time, listening to the heart thudding desperately under his ear, even as his heart pounded in response. They were both breathing hard; clinging together still as though moving would shatter the peace and satisfaction of the moment. “You’re mine.”

Harry’s lips curved into a smile before turning his head to press a moist open-mouthed kiss to Draco’s chest. “I’m yours,” he agreed. Harry heard Draco sigh above him, and somehow found the energy to move, shifting upwards enough so they lay side by side, Draco’s forehead pressed into Harry’s shoulder. Harry would never tell him, but this was his favorite position. Whenever he woke up at night from lingering nightmares, in that wild moment of disorientation he would feel Draco’s breath on his throat and relax before he even processed he was no longer dreaming. Tightening his arms around Draco, he closed his eyes and slept.


	21. The Storm Is Brewing

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

It was slow and testing and sweet. 

Harry knew how Draco’s mouth would fit against his, knew the memory and present circumstances the erotic slide of his tongue, the suggestive arch of his hips. He swallowed each catchy breath as he took his hands slowly, so slowly over the blond. Skimming slight curves and angles, warming flesh. He filled his hands with flesh, then his mouth, teasing pert nipples with tongue and teeth until Draco groaned out his name like a prayer; letting his hands and mouth roam lower still until his name was groaned out with a breathier inflection. Draco, in turn, allowed his hands to roam over Harry’s body even as he trembled with emotion. He took his hands over Harry, testing those muscles, tracing the small scars. Not a warrior’s body, but a man’s, he thought absently. And for now, his. Draco’s heart beat slow and thick as Harry used his mouth on him with a patience and concentration he had neither expected nor realized he desired. 

“Harry…” his name shuddered through his lips as Harry took him in his mouth. Green eyes opened and stared, watching as silver orbs went glassy and blind in speechless arousal. Harry smiled, sending Draco over the edge. He was viciously delighted when Draco cried out, shuddered, watching in satisfaction as his lovers hands fell weakly to his sides. Mine, Harry thought possessively, kissing and biting Draco’s thighs, noting with amusement when Draco’s cock twitched and the body beneath him shuddered. Mine, Harry thought again, as he slid slowly up the pale body, kissing and licking and stroking until Draco was helplessly moving and shifting and begging. Blood thundered in Harry’s head as he slipped inside his lover; watching as Draco moaned in pleasure, arched in welcome, even as his nails bit desperately into Harry’s shoulders. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, kissing him deeply as they lay still for a moment, absorbing the pleasure and the pain until it all bled together in one huge knot of feeling. 

His strokes went deep, deeper, and his mouth crashed down on his in breathless mutual pleasure. Bodies linked, hearts pounding, blood racing, mindless of time and place. Harry pulled back, just enough to smile at Draco. Something inside him melted at that smile, and Draco relaxed and moved with him, giving himself up to his rhythm, making each second individual and alive because he was touching him. Draco arched his hips, meeting Harry’s mouth as he moaned, lacing his fingers through black locks until he exploded inside, throbbing with white heat under Harry’s hands. He felt Harry’s muscles clench around him, and tightened his muscles as Harry emptied himself deep inside him. 

They lay shuddering in each other’s arms, until Harry could move, could reach down to pull the sheet over them, holding Draco close as they fought for breath. “None of this should be possible,” Draco mused, staring blankly up at the crimson bed hangings. He felt Harry lift his face towards him, and met his eyes with a small smile. “I’m probably having a breakdown.”

Harry snorted out a laugh, even as he cuddled closer. “Yeah, well, sanity is overrated.” Draco stared for a moment before leaning over to kiss Harry, murmuring his name as their lips touched; and then they fell asleep, exhausted, in each other’s arms. 

HDHDHD

“Harry, dear, are you awake?”

Groggily opening his eyes, Harry saw nothing but a curtain of soft blonde hair. Reaching his hand out to gently stroke the pale locks, he dreamily mumbled, “Soft.” Dropping his hand, Harry snuggled deeper into the warmth of the body next to him. “Draco’s soft, too.”

Narcissa arched her eyebrows in surprise over that comment. “How very reassuring,” she replied calmly. “Be that as it may, I will be away from the castle for the day.” She waited for Harry to comment or react to that statement, and frowned when he simply pulled Draco half on top of him. “If you need to get a hold of me, I will be at Grimmauld Place.”

Harry grunted inarticulately in response, already more than half asleep again. Narcissa sighed, allowing herself a smirk as she opened his bed hangings and glided from the room. Grateful it was Saturday, Harry thought staying in bed all day with Draco seemed like the best idea he’d ever had. Dreaming about activities to while away the hours of the day, Harry scowled as his sleep was once again interrupted – this time by the sound of flesh slapping flesh and an indignant squeal. Seconds later, Harry felt Draco’s head burrow deeper into his chin as the blonde whimpered in protest, “Harry – the Weasel’s assaulted me.” 

Reluctantly opening his eyes, Harry had to bite back a laugh when he realized what happened; Ron had woken up and been presented with a view of Draco’s bare ass…and decided to wake Harry and Draco up by slapping it. Absently, Harry reached down and began rubbing the smooth flesh. “That wasn’t very nice Ron.”

Ron looked pained. “Harry its bad enough seeing Draco in the dorm, I didn’t need to see see him… let alone watch you rub his ass. Harry stop!”

Draco raised his head to smirk at Ron. “He likes my ass, Ronald.” Harry flushed crimson at the remark, but didn’t bother attempting a denial.

Ron scowled before marching towards the bathroom. “Harry, you’ve gone soft mate.”

Harry grinned at Ron’s back, deliberately easing the pressure of his hands until his fingertips were just stroking over Draco’s pale skin. Harry barely acknowledged Draco’s moan of pleasure, however, as something Ron said floated into his head. Soft. There was something about soft… oh dear God. Pulling away to gaze in horror at Draco, Harry groaned “I think I told your mother that I think you’re soft.”

Slowly, Draco lifted his head to look at Harry. “Did you just say you told my mother I was soft?” Harry cringed. Draco glared and reached down for his pajama bottoms. “Way to kill the mood Potter.” 

“Have you noticed he only calls you Potter when he’s out of sorts?” The bright voice was accompanied by a thump as Hermione plopped herself down on the edge of Harry’s bed. She grinned unrepentedly at the boys, and winked at Harry when he yanked the covers up to his chin. 

“Jesus Harry, are you simply incapable of spending too much time away from your two sidekicks?” Draco glared as Hermione beamed a smile at him again before sniffing derisively and tugging Harry out of bed.

“Up up up,” Hermione chirped. Harry reflected that he’d never liked chirpy people. Ever. Hermione ignored his dark look and continued on. “We have a DA meeting in 40 minutes. Get up, get dressed, and get downstairs. Now. Or I will haul you both into the showers.” Draco smirked and opened his mouth but Hermione beat him to it. “Yes yes,” she said, rolling her eyes, “I am a pervert, a prat, whatever. And after hauling you two into the showers I will call Colin Creevey in to snap pictures and spread them all around.” The boys gaped at her. Hermione smiled angelically, “Rita Skeeter would love some nude photographs, Harry. Imagine where she’ll publish them…”

Draco looked impressed even as Harry squeaked and hauled him towards the shower. “I think I rather like you Hermione.” 

HDHDHD

Harry yawned and absently leaned against the warm body next to him.

“Precisely why, Mr. Potter, do you feel entitled to laze about… on myself no less? Do I look like someone advocating peace and connectivity?” The icy voice was accompanied by a none too subtle nudge with a shoulder, and Harry gazed about somewhat dazedly to look at the glaring face of his Potions Master. Harry looked away in surprise and glanced around, taking in his surrounding for the first time that morning. He was standing in the Great Hall, surrounded by students and teachers as they practiced their spell casting. Harry watched somewhat dreamily as a large group walked around to doors and windows, strengthening and adding to pre existing wards. 

“Tired,” Harry muttered sleepily, still scanning the hall for Draco. He scowled suddenly, pondering the fact that why anyone would set a DA meeting at eight AM on a Saturday morning was completely beyond his level of understanding. After muttering his opinion this morning of two o’clock seeming like a nice solid sounding number, Harry had been so delighted with Draco’s agreement that he stopped what he was doing and pulled him in for a lingering kiss. Hermione, unfortunately, felt no shame about separating the naked boys, and sent them on their way with a slap. Draco was still muttering about his extensive level of knowledge in regards to curses when they had entered the packed Great Hall. Unfortunately, Morgana, Phinneas, and the Goblin liaison had attended the meeting, so the duo had no time to complain. Or hide in a corner. Whatever. It was now going on 10:30, and Harry had given up on any semblance of awareness and slumped against Snape in a bid to remain standing.

Snape eyed the boy warily, eyes flickering briefly towards the lightning scar on his forehead. “And what, precisely, kept you awake last night?”

“Yeah Harry,” a laughing voice chimed in, “what kept you – up – all night?” Harry turned to find the object of his search standing behind him, arms arrogantly crossed over his chest while his grey eyes sparkled with laughter at Harry. Harry flushed, Draco smirked, and Snape looked between the two and rolled his eyes. 

“Go away,” he commanded. “We are nearly finished here, and then you two children can go play.”

Instead of intimidating the boys as he had hoped, Snape’s words simply caused Harry’s flush to deepen and Draco to give up any pretense at calm and laugh uproariously. Snape refused, absolutely refused, to consider the cause of this reaction, and instead ordered Harry to conclude the meeting. He watched with narrowed eyes as Draco chose to follow, slipping his arm possessively around Harry’s waist. 

“Excellent! Absolutely brilliant!”

Harry walked around the assembled students beaming with pride. In the few short weeks they had been teaching the students, expectations had been excelled by leaps and bounds. All the basic spells originally taught by the DA had been mastered, and the students who had not needed a refresher course in basic spells had progressed onto the Patronus charm and many Harry learned during his preparation for the Tri Wizard Tournament. For the first time since Neville’s death, Harry felt a scarred over section of his heart warm. They had taught the students – more students than originally – and assisted them with defensive and offensive spells. None of them dark. After Harry’s “inspirational” speech over his views on the matter, not one person had tried to argue the point. Harry grinned at the twins, watching as they took the two students they were levitating into a mid air waltz, before calling a halt to the meeting.

“You all have done incredibly well!” The students smiled back at Harry proudly. “I think we’re done for the day. Go have fun and be silly – you’ve earned it! We’ll meet up again Monday night for further review, but I just have to tell you how very,” Harry paused, embarrassed, at the emotion choking him. “How very proud I am of all of you. Good work!” A cheer went up from the group in response, and Harry turned distractedly when a flash of red caught the corner of his eye. There, by the door, Pansy, Luna, Blaise, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione stood waiting patiently for Harry and Draco to finish. Shrugging in bemusement, Harry and Draco wove their way through the throng of chattering students to meet their friends. 

Ginny was practically bouncing with excitement as she held onto Blaise’s hand. “Harry! We’re making you take a break too. Come on, we’re all going to have a picnic down by the lake!”

Harry sighed, thinking longingly of his bed upstairs. He was so tired, so unaccountably weary, all he really longed to do was grab Draco and go to sleep for a few hours. Or days, perhaps. “Harry?” He turned to look into Hermione’s concerned face, rolling his eyes when she placed the back of her hand to his forehead, “are you feeling all right?”

“Can’t you smell the Rosemary?” They all turned to Luna, watching her gaze out the window with a dreamy smile. 

Harry smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, ignoring Luna’s random comment. “Of course,” he replied, “just tired.”

Obviously he hadn’t been successful, as now even Draco was looking at him in concern. “Come on,” he announced, grabbing Harry’s hand, “you can take a nap in the sunshine.”

Harry looked out the window where, indeed, pale sunlight was reflecting off the frost, making the grounds sparkle like an image from a fairy tale. His protests of the cold were shut off with disgusted looks, and the reminder that he was, indeed, a wizard, which is how Harry found himself reclining on a blanket with his head in Draco’s lap, listening to the babble of voices blur around him. “Relax.” He looked up at the quiet word, sighing in pleasure as Draco carded his hands through Harry’s hair. This was nice, Harry mused. It felt so completely right to lie here with Draco, surrounded by friends, feeling so safe and loved. Harry sighed again, burrowing his face into Draco’s stomach contentedly.

He vaguely heard someone asking him a question and opened his mouth to answer when a sudden sharp pain stabbed through his head. Gasping, Harry clapped his hand over his scar as wave upon wave of rage poured through him. He shot to his feet, feeling the urge to run, to scream, to fight. He was vaguely aware of hands gripping his arm, of sharp voices calling out, and of someone standing in front of him trying to get him to focus. “Back off!” he snapped, unable to distinguish his feelings from the pure unadulterated anger coursing through him. Jerking his arm free, Harry took one step away. And fell.

HDHDHD

Narcissa was unimpressed with the state of Grimmauld Place.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she looked around the dark musky house, Sirius scowling at her side. “I don’t see why I had to come back here,” he muttered, glaring at the threadbare carpet. “I was perfectly content to stay at Hogwarts with Moony and Snape.” He paused for a moment, contemplating the oddity of that statement, before shrugging it off to continue glaring around him ancestral home. 

“Whining, dear cousin, is extremely unbecoming,” Narcissa remarked loftily, gazing with barely concealed distaste at the disreputable home. Really, she thought, I was married to a Death Eater for twenty years and not once was my home allowed to fall into ruin. Embracing dark magic was simply no excuse to ignore breeding. “You are here because I need you to get the animal currently ensconced in your mother’s room. I have neither the time nor patience to coax it down.” She turned and gave an icy look at the portrait of Mrs. Black as she began squawking and wailing over Sirius being back in the house. One well placed spell and the figure went silent, grabbing her arm and staring in shock at the blood seeping through her gown. She opened her mouth to scream again, but Narcissa simply raised an eyebrow and Mrs. Black went still, glaring at her in an odd mixture of pride and hatred. 

“Animal?” Sirius asked happily, immensely cheered to see his mother cowering in her frame. “What spell was that? It looked handy.”

“Yes, the animal that mauled my son two years ago.” Narcissa ignored his other question entirely as she gracefully headed into the kitchen and accepted a cup of tea from an amused Molly Weasley. She looked Sirius up and down before adding, “I understand you have a certain… affability with wild beasts.”

A look of dawning comprehension spread across Sirius’ face before he threw back his head and emitted a sharp bark-like laugh. “You mean Buckbeak? Yeah, he’s here.” He looked at her curiously. “Where are we taking him?”

Narcissa smiled. “Why, to battle of course.”

Molly waited until Sirius had bounded up the stairs before setting her cup on the table. “You’ll teach me that spell, right?”

Narcissa smiled. “Naturally,” she replied calmly. “We women must stick together.”

HDHDHD

All his plans for naught. The boy should have died long ago. 

Harry stared down at the empty trunk, no longer shiny as it rested in the corner of his ancestor’s home. The trunk that should have contained the ring of his ancestor, proudly earned and hidden. The trunk that was sitting, dull and empty, unprotected by his hard learned spells, silently mocking him. Wave upon wave of rage rose within him as he sharply turned and walked out the door. A dark look, a concentrated thought, and the house burst into flames. His followers shifted, uneasy in the face of his volatile anger. His rage grew, unappeased by the greedily flickering flames. It settled around him like a blanket, embracing him and feeding him even as the shadows had nurtured him last summer when he reclaimed his body. How could the boy have known where the house was? How did he know that the Gaunt house was located so near the graveyard he had escaped from last year? 

Perhaps it had been Dumbledore?

Harry sneered at the thought of the meddlesome old man as he apparrated away. His spies told him that Dumbledore had been absent lately from Hogwarts, away on some secret missions that no one seemed to know about. Thankfully he had Severus at the school, and knew the barmy old goat was out dealing with his “secret” Order of the Phoenix. Harry’s lips curled in disgust as he embraced the shadows and stealthily moved lower through the ground, seeking out the Lestrange vault. Dumbledore had never trusted him… but how could even he have known about the secret Lord Voldemort possessed? 

He paused, running his hand over the door of the vault; unable to get into this magically protected space, but reaching out for the answering throbs of his power. Nothing. Harry growled, his rage burning his skin, sharpening the crimson of his eyes, and he again ran his hand slowly against the door. He heard the soft ding as his magic triggered the safety wards surrounding the vault, but could not be bothered to care as again his search wielded no answering hum of magic. The cup, placed by his own hands, given to his loyal supporter merely months before the Potter’s died, was no longer resting within. Harry roared, shouting out his fury as footsteps scurried closer. 

No longer caring about remaining hidden, he drew his wand, leaving the small horde of goblins and curse breakers bleeding or dead as he strode out of the darkness of the cavern. He heard the screams, saw the people diving for cover, as he entered the main hall of Gringott’s. He noticed several goblins apparrate away swiftly as he summoned his followers. Their presence failed to ease his wrath, even as they hastened to obey his order to take Diagon Alley. He shouted, casting curses meant to cause destruction and pain, death, insanity; his fury building only higher as the goblins returned – with followers of that blasted Dumbledore. He slashed out angrily, embracing the coppery stench of blood, delighting in the screams, the power of the terror he induced giving him a heady rush. But this was not the fight he wanted to engage in right now. 

With a pop, he was back in the house he had taken refuge in months before. He grabbed for one of his minions, ignoring the scream of pain as he forcefully ignited the Dark Mark on his arm. He listened to them approach, noting in a glance how many did not return from Diagon Alley, the exhausted and bleeding countenance of the ones who did. He said one sentence. “Get me Severus Snape.” He waited, pacing, his fury growing to such an extreme degree the very air in front of him seemed to shimmer with heat. And then he was there, his dark head bent as he knelt before his Lord. 

Harry gazed down at the submissive form of his most trusted, most valuable minion. “You will get me into Hogwarts, and you will get me in today.” His voice was cold, a sharp contrast to the passionate emotions charging the air around him.

“My Lord…” Snape was pale, looking at up him with… appreciation? Yes, Snape always was one to appreciate and approve of decisive action. 

“The boy will be dead by nightfall.” Harry stated flatly. He reached out and gently caressed Snape’s shoulder, before clenching his hand down hard enough to put untold pressure on the bone beneath. Snape made no sound. So well trained, Harry mused fondly, feeling his rage abate slightly as his confidence in Severus’ ability to breach Hogwarts grounds grew. “You will not fail me.” Snape nodded, he knew it was not a request. “Go.”

Harry smiled lazily at his followers, appreciating their winces and the taste of fear. “Contact the giants, gather the Dementors, notify out allies. We fight tonight. We fight to kill.” He watched as they scuttled off to do his bidding.

All his plans for naught. No matter. The boy will die tonight. 

~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry slammed back into his body.

He was shaking like a leaf, dizzy, and had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being forcefully retained inside his body as though pulled by a string. He could hear screaming, loud and anguished, as well as hands moving over his body. He fought, disoriented, the bitter taste of fear caught in his throat, the smell of blood far too real. “Harry, please…” His eyes snapped open, ignoring the blurry outlines around him to focus on the gray eyes gazing down on him in worried confusion. He reached out, tangling his hands in the silken blonde locks, ignoring the wince of protest as he yanked Draco down to him. He released his death grip on Draco’s hair, shoving his hands under the boys’ shirt to press his cheek against Draco’s chest. There… it was there. His heartbeat. A sob ripped from his throat as he clung to his love, allowing Draco’s body heat to warm up his suddenly frozen muscles, allowing the strength of the arms wrapped so tightly around him to comfort him and ease his shaking. He breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of Draco; wanting nothing more than to crawl inside the other boys skin and stay there hiding until nighttime. 

Tonight. Harry opened his eyes, refusing to relinquish his hold on Draco as he sat up. The position was not comfortable, but he could not bring himself to let go. He had to keep Draco safe, keep him near, or he would surely collapse. “Tonight.” Harry’s voice sounded odd, rough and sore. Had it been him screaming when he awoke? “Voldemort,” Harry started shaking again, clutching Draco closer as his arms tightened convulsively around him. “He is coming tonight, coming to end it. Snape’s going to get him inside the grounds. We have to tell everyone.”

Looks of horror, of stupefied terror, met his gaze. Then Hermione stood up. She was trembling but her voice was brisk and soothed Harry’s nerves. “Well then, let’s head back to the castle. I will go to the kitchens and alert the house elves. Ginny, Blaise,” the two snapped to attention at the sounds of their names. “Off to the Forbidden Forest. Notify Phinneas and tell him to meet us in the Headmaster’s office in 30 minutes.” They nodded and stood. “Pansy – off to find Morgana. I believe she’s still in the Great Hall.” The girl nodded once before rushing off. Hermione turned to Ron; she looked conflicted, like she wanted him to stay with her but knew she couldn’t right now. She straightened her shoulders. “Ron, go find Fred and George. Have them contact their goblin liaison  
And tell them the same thing – Dumbledore’s office in half an hour.” Ron nodded, kissed Hermione quickly and ran off. “Luna, notify the teachers and have them gather the students together. We need to get the young ones to safety and the others primed for battle.” Luna smiled, happily singing under her breath as though this were an everyday occurrence, before dancing off towards the castle. 

She turned to Harry, her features visibly softening. “Harry” her voice was gentle. She felt like Satan as her eyes met his. Who the hell was she to demand he go through this twice? Expect him to handle the strain of someone taking over his mind. She was so selfish. Miserably, “Darling, can you stand?” Between her and Draco they got Harry to his feet. He immediately turned into Draco’s embrace, clinging for a long minute before he pulled away and took a deep breath. He nodded at Hermione. Hesitantly, she continued. “You and Draco go wait for us in the Head…”

Draco cut her off. “No,” he replied in a steely voice. “We will go find Snape and meet you there.” Hermione gave Harry a searching look before reluctantly nodding and running off. 

Half an hour later they were all there, convened in Dumbledore’s office. Waiting for him to speak in the ringing silence following Harry’s account of his vision. Oddly enough, the mood was more a convoluted sense of expectation and relief than fear. Plans had been long discussed, all were eager to finish Voldemort’s reign. “Professor,” It was Pansy, speaking quietly, who first broke the silence. “What are we going to do about Him getting into Hogwarts?”

Not for the first time Harry questioned the state of Dumbledore’s sanity as the man in question leaned over his desk, blue eyes twinkling merrily. “We’re going to let him in of course.” His voice was calm, for all the world he could have been announcing he liked Chocolate Frogs. Luna giggled, as though to the punch line of a standing joke. 

They gaped at Dumbledore in shock, the silence broken only as the door was dramatically thrown open and Narcissa strolled into the room. She scanned the room with narrowed eyes, gaze lingering on Harry’s pale face for a fraction longer than the others, before smiling regally. “What did I miss?”


	22. The Lenghtening Of Shadows

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

WARNINGS and DISCLAIMERS and battles, oh my! I own nothing.

The battle begins...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gryffindor’s were appallingly lack in self preservation skills.

Snape glared across the room at Dumbledore, mentally blocking the fact that he was sitting on Harry’s left with his arm wrapped supportively around the boy’s shoulder. After all, Draco, his Godson, was on Harry’s other side, so clearly he was only offering support to him… NOT Harry. He was a Slytherin after all. Slytherin’s simply did not do excessive feelings. Slytherin’s had carefully developed manipulative and self-preservation skills. Snape comforted himself with this knowledge. After all, Dumbledore had apparently decided Harry and the students were to be offered as sacrificial lambs by allowing the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters onto the Hogwarts grounds, so as an educator it was simply his duty to offer support to a student in distress. It’s what he was paid to do. It wasn’t like he cared or anything. He simply… well… He blamed the filthy werewolf.

He turned his head to glare at the lycanthrope in question, ignoring the warm smile and reassuring pat on his knee Lupin deemed a necessary rejoinder. The damned werewolf and his shaggy friend had given up all pretense of removing themselves from his personal quarters. Citing a damaged childhood and lonely isolation respectively, Sirius and Remus hadn’t left since the night Snape had been foolish enough to let his guard down and get drunk with the two men. And now here he was – Severus Snape – feeling responsible for the bloody Gryffindor idiot who had to go out and fight the Dark Lord. He never asked to develop something as disgusting as feelings for the boy, nor did he intend to allow the animals to remain bunking with him. He didn’t need friends. He didn’t need to belong. He fully intended to send Harry on his merry way and banish the two ruffians into the deepest levels of Hell. What was it Dante had professed….something about 48 levels of Hell… well, that sounded satisfactory. He didn’t care about the outcome of their lives, he simply… well, he blamed the filthy werewolf.

Snape scanned the Great Hall with a menacing eye, evaluating the students, teachers, and creatures assembled together. All the little fools who had so recently denounced Harry and Dumbledore as a bunch of crackpot old fools with their announcement of Voldemort’s return. Well ha! Look at them now, he thought, observing the intent expressions on their faces as they listened to Harry prattle on about the upcoming battle. He smirked, unreasonably pleased to note Dumbledore standing off to the side. No doubt everyone held great respect for the man, but after being on the receiving end of the man’s manipulative schemes for years, Snape was pleased to note Harry received a larger public out showing of respect than Dumbledore. Seriously, it was a true wonder the man hadn’t been a Slytherin like Grindewald. The two had been so well matched, after all. Snape narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, observing Dumbledore. He wondered what the professor would do in the battle. Something grandiose and Gryffindor and flashy most likely. 

Maybe pelt the Death Eaters with Lemon Drops. 

HDHDHD

Draco was furious.

Anger, after all, was so much easier to deal with than the other emotions swimming inside him. The ones threatening to choke him, make him cry out and bleed, make him want to do something impressive…like hex the idiot Hufflepuff’s gazing at his Harry with such a look of concentration. They had no idea, absolutely no idea, of how much of himself Harry gave to others. How he wore himself down, dealt with the raping of his mind, and tried and tried and tried to do the right thing. All to help others. Because the idiot Gryffindor believed people were worth fighting for, and because Voldemort had heard a prophecy which had marked Harry to this task since he was fifteen months old. 

Draco looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye. Noting how earnest and sincere he was talking to those gathered, even as he was slightly trembling and resigned and tired and pale and trepidatious. Draco felt a fierce rush of possessiveness and absently tightened his hold on Harry. Only he knew Harry well enough to see the undercurrents of emotions his love was trying to repress. Everyone else saw a confident man calmly pledging to risk his life, while still giving everyone the choice of whether or not they wanted to fight or not; offering them a hiding place in the Room of Requirements that was committed to delivering people to safety. His Harry would never demand others sacrifice themselves. No, that wouldn’t be noble or Gryffindor. 

Draco scowled, remembering that moment of shattering intimacy in Harry’s room when he had been informed that he needed to let Harry die. To let his Harry walk into battle; alone, and prepared to sacrifice himself; knowing he may not return. As if he was capable of allowing his Harry to go unprotected into battle. Draco didn’t understand the emotions he felt. Didn’t understand this fierce desire to mark Harry as his own, wrap him up and hide him; keep him as far away from Voldemort as possible. Sometimes Draco looked at Harry, just looked at him, and felt such an incredible surge of warmth flood his body it took all his self control not to cry out. He could not handle the thought of a life without Harry, or the thought of someone hurting his love, causing pain to radiate from those sparkling green eyes. Draco could not handle this feeling of helplessness. So he chose anger. Allowing it to blanket him, numb his other emotions, help him maintain his focus and awareness of the situation. He knew his Harry. Knew he would try everything he could to keep Draco safe and protected even as he himself rushed headlong into battle. 

He could handle the anger that simmered up to his throat. That was simply a matter of control. But the hurt, the little slashing knives that Harry’s words had dueling in his stomach, that was another matter. For those, Draco would have cheerfully murdered Voldemort himself. Draco fully intended to protect his Harry right back.

HDHDHD

Harry was positively sick with resignation. 

He had given his speeches, soothed and motivated the masses, provided hope where none existed before, and now leaned quietly against the wall with Draco and his friends, watching the melee unfold. He knew Draco was upset. Hell, they all were. He could tell, however, the depth of Draco’s emotions by the sheer fact that his blond had not stopped touching him since the moment he’d woken up from his vision and yanked him down on him. Truthfully – as loathe as he was to initiate the conversation with Draco, he was vastly reassured by his closeness. So for now, they leaned against the wall. Remaining in close contact, silently gathered with their closest friends, remembering and attempting to forget at the same time. Harry felt a hand brush his, and looked over to see Hermione, ash white, reaching out to him. He took her hand, oddly soothed as he dropped his head on Draco’s shoulder. So misconceiving, Harry mused. Hermione and Draco – so small and slight, fragile almost, but with such strength. The two people in all the world he felt closest to and most reassured by,

God, could he bear it if either didn’t come back after tonight?

The thought of his survival never really bothered him. If he died, he died; he could only hope Voldemort went down with him. If he lived, well, all the better. But now… Harry tilted his head and looked up at Draco, smiling as the gray eyes stared back at him before his love bent down and brushed his lips over Harry’s forehead. Now, more than ever, he needed to survive. These people, his friends and family… he had butted into their lives, changed the course of their future without their awareness, and owed it to them to get them through this safely. Ultimately, it was between him and Voldemort. That was understood and unchallenged. However, in the process of getting to the bastard, so many innocents would risk their lives and their future happiness. What if Fred died again? Would George kill himself over his brothers’ grave one month to the day later? Would he have to watch his friends fall all over again? 

Green eyes scanned the room, memorizing its occupants, frowning as he saw Moony reach out to steady Snape as the man clutched his arm and sought Harry out with his eyes. They nodded together. Snape had been summoned. It would start soon. Abruptly, Harry marched over to Moony, pulling the man in question into a fierce hug. “I love you, you know?” Moony looked rather startled at the declaration, but hugged him back. “You were always there for me, always supporting me the best way you knew how.” Harry gave the man a fierce look, ignoring the tears that blurred both of their visions. “I may never have known my father,” he continued quietly, “but since age thirteen I have always known that at least one person in the world loved me.”

Moony clutched Harry to him fiercely. “We will survive this. You are a powerful wizard Harry, more powerful than you even know.” Remus patted Harry’s head fondly as he seemed to commit his appearance to memory. “I love you too. Not once have you ever made me less than proud of you.”

Harry nodded, unable to speak under that warm understanding gaze. He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans, reassuring himself the stone was still there. He nodded again, heading back to his friends. What was going to happen would happen. Harry smiled at his friends, noticing Draco’s unhappy expression. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to embrace misery before he needed to. Walking directly towards Draco, Harry grabbed him, absorbing the startled expression, before connecting their mouths together. When had he come to need the flavor of him, the scent and texture of his skin? After so many years, how had hostility turned into friendship before shooting into passion and longing? Draco’s skin hummed under his hands, those long, gliding strokes that shifted in a pulse beat to rough and possessive. What spurted to life inside of Harry, inside them both, was too layered and complex to analyze. He felt every shift and sigh, knew when nerves had melted into acceptance. Only then did he pull away.

Draco sighed, leaning forward to drop his forehead on Harry. “I can’t let you go.”

Harry closed his eyes, absorbing the quick jolt of pain, even as he fought to keep his mood light. “Obviously,” he teased, rubbing his thumb over Draco’s hands where they fisted into his shirt. Draco looked at him in exasperation. Harry gave a crooked grin. “How delicious is madness?”

Draco snorted. “Yeah, well, sanity is overrated.”

“You know,” Pansy spoke up in falsely superior tones. “It’s really not fair to stir everyone up like that when not everyone has someone to cuddle with like that.” Draco regarded the girl silently, before reaching out and pulling her into a one armed hug. They laughed, the tension temporarily eased as they took a moment to act like teenagers. Hormonal, impetuous, sarcastic, ignoring the fact that they would be irrevocably altered after the nights activities. 

Harry felt his scar burn, felt the acidic wash of anger and smugness and sense of superiority course through him. And he knew. He met Draco’s eyes, saw the knowledge returned. “Scared, Malfoy?”

Draco sighed, grip tightening on Harry for another long second before he straightened, an expression of bored indifference falling over his face. “You wish.” They met in a hug. All of them. Clinging together for one last measure of security, one final semblance of normalcy, before pulling apart to join the ranks of the others. 

It had begun. Harry prayed they would all last the night. 

HDHDHD

The satisfaction made him feel as happy as he was capable of feeling.

The knowledge, the sheer power and superiority he experienced, watching Snape mutter spells at the gates of Hogwarts, flooded him with such a sense of rightfulness that he could almost swear it was fated for Harry Potter to die on these grounds. Voldemort smiled coldly; of course it was. The boy had been a thorn in his side for far too long. His crimson gaze swept the outlines of the castle in the distance, observing the blur of color. They would be finishing dinner right about now, he mused. Sleepy after a long day playing Quidditch or doing homework, ready to go to bed or relax in their common rooms. So innocent. So unaware. So ready to fall. 

He watched the gates open, nodded once to allow his Death Eaters to precede him onto the grounds. A battle was much the same as a well played game of chess. A successful strategist watched the board, listening to the pieces and learning from them. Noting defensive and offensive maneuvers. And always, always, sacrificing the pawns to protect the king. Lord Voldemort was a brilliant strategist. He remembered the early days, building and constructing and layering his empire. Watching which pieces fell, and which pieces seemed immovable. Learning how to block out distraction and focus on his goal. Appreciating the heady rush of decimating his opponent. Embracing the continuous flow or fear and power. 

He scanned the area, noting how his Death Eaters spread out and hid, appreciating the icy coldness and ominous rattle of his Dementors, nodding to the giants gathered about and grumpily awaiting the opportunity to smash, and destroy. It took but a whispered spell before his voice was magically amplified. “Good evening, guests of Hogwarts.” He paused, imaging with pleasure the sudden silence falling over the Dining Room, dinners forgotten as they recognized his melodious voice. “I know that you are preparing to fight,” he continued. 

Up at the castle, Harry and Hermione froze, their fingers clenching tighter together as they recognized the cruel words, perfectly imitating a speech that seemed so close and yet so far away in their memories. 

“Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you.” Simply the Mud bloods, Voldemort amended silently. “I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood.” He paused, waiting for a reaction, unsurprised by the complete lack of response. He was a terror inducing figure of power, after all. “Give me Harry Potter” he commanded, “and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter and you shall be rewarded.” He paused, more for dramatic effect than anything else. “You have half an hour.”

He was quite pleased with his speech, taking a moment to savor his articulation skills before gesturing for his followers and allies to get into suitable position. He fell into step with Severus. “You have pleased me.”

Snape bowed his head in recognition on the praise even as they continued walking up the path. “I seek only to serve you, My Lord.”

“You shall be rewarded,” Voldemort replied, well pleased with his faithful lackey. “Tonight, you may have the honor of killing Dumbledore.” Snape stopped dead in his tracks, strong emotions flitting momentarily across his face, before nodding in gratitude. Voldemort smiled at him affectionately before turning to scan his surroundings. “Come,” he commanded his Inner Circle, “follow me into the forest.” The Forbidden Forest was eerily quiet and dark; the animals inside sensing his power and refraining from coming close. Smart, he concluded. He walked unhurriedly, ignoring the feeling of being watched, until he reached a clearing. He cast a circle quickly; turning around with a frown as he realized only ten of his Death Eaters remained. Really, of all the night to go wandering about in the forest, was now really the time? 

He saw Snape eyeing the circle and smiled. “Do not worry, this circle shall protect me. No one may enter except myself and young Mr. Potter. You,” he indicated his minions with a jerk of his chin “will encircle the circle. No one but Harry Potter may come close.” They nodded, slightly confused but knowing better than to openly question their lords’ decision. 

“But, My Lord…” the voice was hesitant, as though fearing the answer to the question more than the ramifications of questioning the Dark Lord. “How will we get Harry to come into the forest?”

Voldemort did not reply immediately, instead conjuring a plush chair and seating himself. He idly played with his wand, enjoying the heightened fear in the eyes that watched his every move. His eyes glowing pure scarlet with pleasure, he finally responded. “Harry Potter will come to me.”

HDHDHD

The pain was excruciating. 

It sliced through him, long, ragged blades of it that had him crying out, rearing up. His breath was gasping, his lungs were burning, and when it stopped, so suddenly, it took a full minute for the relief to fight through the pain. “Colin? Oh God Colin are you ok?”

Colin Creevey opened his eyes, stared up at the pale face of Theodore Nott. “S’okey.” He mumbled. He felt an arm slide around him as he was unceremoniously hauled to his feet. He wavered, his knees buckling, gripping the arm around him as he focused on his surroundings. He stared at the body in front of him, the Death Eater who’d held him under the curse. He shivered at the remembered anguish. “Teddy,” he asked faintly, still staring at the unconscious body wrapped in ropes. “Isn’t that your dad?”

Teddy stared at the body on the ground for a minute before looking at the pale, shell-shocked face of the boy he was helping. “Yes.”

Colin nodded. “Oh. Ok. Thanks.” They stared a minute longer, before splitting up and rejoining the fight. A Slytherin had rescued him, Colin thought dazedly, even as he blocked a brilliant flash of pink headed towards Fred Weasley. Guess Harry knew what he was talking about when he said it was all about choices. 

HDHDHD

Narcissa loved to dance. 

She had carefully prepared for this battle. Her hair shone, not a strand out of place, the deep blue of her gown exactly matching the shade of her eyes, and she smiled graciously at her opponents even as she cursed them. Granted, she had the element of surprise on her side, as most of the Death Eaters instinctively hesitated before striking out at a Malfoy, but no one observing would dare doubt her skill. She gracefully made her way towards the designated spot, gliding and waltzing and spinning as she guarded and protected herself and others from the insane chaos. She nodded in acknowledgement at the blonde haired girl with the radish earrings who was also dancing rather dreamily about. Narcissa respected those who found the beauty in situations. 

The whoop of laughter drew everyone’s attention except hers, and Narcissa took advantage of the distraction to take out four Death Eaters with one curse. She paused, delighted with her success, and almost negligently raised her arm over her head. The hand clasped hers and yanked her up, pulling her onto a warm body already arcing back into the sky. She took a moment to smooth her hair and straighten her gown. “Well, dear cousin, your timing certainly has improved over the years.” She arched her eyebrows in disapproval as she scanned the area searching for Harry and Draco. “Whatever are you wearing?”

Sirius roared with laughter, moving Buckbeak in the direction Narcissa indicated as he knocked down a giant. “Lavender Brown, one of the giggly girls in Harry’s house, told me I looked like a renegade cowboy. Said something about dreaming about the Marlboro man,” he shrugged, gesturing towards the black cowboy hat with silver buckles and black leather chaps. “Expecto Patronum!” He shouted, watching with satisfaction as the Dementors creeping towards the children ran away. “Seemed appropriate,” he continued, guiding Buckbeak towards the castle wall. 

Harry looked shocked when he saw his uncle, but immediately moved to offer Narcissa a hand and help her off the Hippogriff. Narcissa sniffed, tossing her hair back. “Harry, dear. It is glaringly apparent where you learned your fashion sense from.” She paused to dash a quick series of spells over his shoulder. “First thing Monday morning you and I are going shopping with my hapless cousin and I will purchase you some appropriate attire to parade around in.”

Green eyes sparkled with laughter as Harry absently sent his Stag over to more roving Dementors. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied obediently. Draco yanked Harry down and sent a blast of red light over to the Death Eaters ganging up on Ginny and Blaise. 

Sirius swept his Godson into a crushing hug, Narcissa and Draco cautiously acceding as well. They all turned and watched as the giants roared out when the ground in front of them suddenly caved in. The hole went deep, the giants disappearing from view. For a moment they all stared in shock before Draco and Sirius started laughing. George Weasley ran by laughing like a loon as well, grinning over at the group. “Goblins are brilliant aren’t they?” He beamed. “Hey Sirius, you going up again? Can I come?”

Narcissa took a moment to straighten George’s shirt and even out his hair before allowing him to climb onto Buckbeak. The men exchanged looks of befuddlement, but not one of them argued when Narcissa explained war was simply no excuse to ignore ones breeding. Moments later they were off and Narcissa shooed Harry and Draco over to a secure looking alcove. She took great delight in setting fire to the man who dared graze her cheek with a curse. 

She really did love to dance. 

HDHDHD

“You’re mums mental, you know that right?”

Harry spoke casually, smiling as he watched Narcissa shrug in answer to his arched look over her use of such a dark spell. Draco snorted. “My mum is brilliant Potter.”

“Well, I wasn’t denying that,” he said in exasperation. “I was simply commenting on the fact that she’s mental to enjoy all this.”

Draco looked at Harry for a moment before a small smile broke across his face. Almost absently he wove a curse over Harry’s head, not even bothering to acknowledge the resulting scream. “Well, yes, there is that.” He looked around in distaste. “Such a vile smelly dirty action.” He sniffed disdainfully. “When we move out I refuse to allow you to engage in any more wars.” Draco looked so sulky, so utterly disgusted by his surroundings, that it was a full minute before Harry was able to stop laughing long enough to kiss him. 

“HARRY!” 

The scream was loud, and as familiar to him as breathing. He pulled away from Draco, searching frantically, until he saw her. Hermione. Backed into a corner and completely isolated. Her head was bleeding, her blouse was torn, and she was fighting with three Death Eaters at once. “HERMIONE!” He didn’t think, didn’t hear Draco cursing him, blind terror and instinct took over and he was running – shouting curses, dodging and weaving through the mess. He felt a body next to him, and looked over to see Tonks sprinting along next to him, shielding him and herself even as they ran. He smiled at her in relief, she nodded back, and then they reached Hermione. However, both Hermione and Harry’s shout had drawn the attention of Fenrir Greyback, Lestrange, Lupin, and Shacklebolt. Harry could barely see through the brightly flashing light. He gritted his teeth and ignored the pain blossoming in his side. He heard a roar, a snarl, and a scream, but could not see anything. “Hermione!” His voice broke. Terrified, he fought, until warm hands wrapped around him and bushy hair tickled his chin. He swept her up in his arms and ran. 

Harry could feel her tears seeping into the skin on his neck. He was babbling by the time he reached a pale faced Draco, running his hands over her desperately to see if she was hurt. “Please, please, please…” He didn’t know he was begging, didn’t know what he was begging for. Quickly, he stopped the bleeding on her head, looking down in surprise when Draco did the same thing to his side. Had he been hit? He looked around to make sure they were still unseen, and felt his heart stop when he saw Lupin kneeling next to the body of Nymphadora Tonks. “No, oh no…” he whimpered, unable to speak, thrusting Hermione into Draco’s arms as he raced to his friend’s side. “Tonks.”

Lupin looked up, looking so tired, so weary, tears running down his face. “She’s gone Harry.” He looked at her face, mauled and broken, before looking at the body of Greyback. Moony followed his gaze. “At least I finally got the bastard.” His voice was grim, unemotional. He looked back at Harry. “Hurry, Harry. Go be safe. We’ll come back for her.” Lupin laid Tonks’ body carefully on the ground, sheltered against the wall, and stood. “We have to keep fighting.” He clasped Harry on the shoulder and was gone in a swirl of multicolored mist, rejoining the fight as though he had never left it. 

Harry walked back to Hermione and Draco, noting the tear streaked faces and pallor of their skin. He looked around at the fighting, processing the noise and the curses and the brilliant mist of color that seemed permanently etched in the air from the curses. “Draco.” He looked at him, reading the knowledge and the pleading in the anguished silver orbs. He continued, even as the blonde head shook in denial. “Take Hermione to the hospital wing.” As if in a dream he reached under his shirt and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. He stared at it for a moment, feeling the familiar silken texture, his last tangible link to his father. He handed it to Draco.

“No,” Draco’s voice was hoarse. He didn’t even look at the cloak, staring intently into clouded green eyes. “Harry…”

“Draco…” he felt like he was being ripped in two. “You have to let me go.” Draco’s eyes closed. He shuddered violently. “Draco, please, you have to.” 

Hermione was crying. Harry knelt down and helped her to her feet. Hugging her fiercely. He turned to Draco and opened his mouth, but closed it at the rush of emotion clogging his throat. He watched those smoke grey eyes narrow – irritation, impatience, some other indescribable emotion – before Draco rattled off what could have been orders or oaths and stepped towards him. Hot, voracious kisses, with tongue and teeth, the frantic strain of torso against torso separated by two thin layers of cloth. Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck, arms banding around him, trembling and overwhelmed. Then he took a deep breath, a step back, and let go. Draco looked at him, a moment of wordless communication, before sweeping the cloak around himself and Hermione and vanishing. 

Harry waited a full minute until he was certain Draco was gone, obeying Harry and taking Hermione to safety. Then he turned toward the Forbidden Forest. He felt calm, prepared, accepting. He was not surprised when Phinneas fell into step beside him. “You know this is suicide.”

“Yep,” Harry’s eyes didn’t waver from the forest in front of him. He focused; one foot in front of the other. 

Phinneas studied him. “What can I do?”

“Get me to him in one piece.” Harry’s voice was unemotional, concentrated. Step by step. Deeper into the forest. Further from Draco. 

They walked on.

HDHDHD

He was suffocating on his silent screams.

As if in a dream he helped Hermione into the Hospital Wing, eased her onto a bed, rattled off the healing charms Harry had administered to Madame Pomphrey. Draco was convinced he was going to die on the spot from the screams he was fighting to suppress. Every fiber of his being rejected moving away from Harry. He started when the soft warm hard slipped into his own.

Hermione eyed Draco for a moment, her brown eyes were damp and warm, her voice hoarse. “Last time, he was in the forest. Just him and Voldemort.”

Draco stared at her, understanding the sadness swirling in her eyes. She was letting him go. He leaned down and kissed her, gently, thankfully, before drawing away. “I love you Hermione.”

She smiled through her tears. “I love you too. You have to come back to me, ok? Back to us. Both of you.” Draco nodded. He eyed her for one last long moment, gently wiping her tears, and vanished. 

He was unsurprised when the elves were able to see him through his cloak. Appreciative when they asked him one question only. “Why?”

Draco looked at the elf. “Because he is mine, and I don’t know who I am without him.”

They nodded. Draco ignored the way the elves seemed to make the Dementors disappear, disregarded the screams as Death Eaters appeared to get sucked into trees. He followed the guard of elves deeper into the forest. He had to protect his Harry.

He’d promised. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*

Almost to the end.... thoughts thus far?


	23. This Is How A Heart Breaks

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

WARNINGS and DISCLAIMERS are not going to disappear 22 chapters into a story. Promise.

The battle continues...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~

He may be crazy, but the old man had style.

Charlie Weasley grinned, turning his head to admire Albus Dumbledore as he flew alongside him on the back of a Welsh Green dragon. No denying the professor was… eclectic… but the enthusiasm he projected reminded Charlie sharply of the twins. Anyone who treated the idea of riding into battle against the greatest dark wizard in history, facing nearly impossible odds, radiating enthusiasm, as a lark, was alright in his books. Shaking his head, Charlie looked around at the chaos below, arms tightening convulsively as his dragon sharply veered out of the way of a jet of green light. He frowned, looking around with narrowed eyes, noting the Death Eaters on brooms cautiously circling. Charlie couldn’t help but remember what Harry had told him about tricking his dragon during the Tri-Wizard Tournament – simply another game of Quidditch. 

Charlie was a brilliant seeker. 

His laugh sounding slightly frightening to his own ears, Charlie nodded to Dumbledore and the pair split up. This was just another game of Quidditch, Charlie thought to himself, and the Death Eaters were the Snitch. Only slightly disappointed he couldn’t do the loops and twirls he was famous for on a broomstick, Charlie guided his dragon forward, blessing his years spent training them as the Chinese Fireball responded instantly to his touch. Death Eaters were ill equipped to deal with dragons, however, and Charlie scowled, wished this really were a game of Quidditch and he was opposing the Slytherin’s; at least they appreciated the challenge of a well fought game and didn’t mind playing a little dirty. 

Idly flying around, dragon blasting the occasional puff of fire, Charlie saw Pansy Parkinson fall. He frowned, steering his dragon in her direction, fear clenching his belly when he saw the circle of Death Eaters surround her sprawled form. He roared in unison with his dragon, rushing towards the ground like an avenging angel as he drew his wand. “Levicorpus!” Pansy shot into the air with a scream as the Death Eaters desperately tried to fight down the fire that suddenly engulfed them. Charlie caught Pansy one handed, letting the Fireball dictate its own direction as he clutched her close and searched for injuries. “Are you ok?” If he weren’t so frightened Charlie would have cringed at the strain in his voice. 

Pansy quit struggling the moment she recognized his voice, stopping her swinging fist millimeters from Charlie’s jaw. Her eyes widened, a faint flush darkening her face, as she absently smoothed her hair. “Charlie? What the hell are you doing here?” Her eyes narrowed. “You said you had to go back to Romania.”

Charlie blinked at Pansy, utterly perplexed by her snappish tone of voice. Geez, he though, save the girl from mortal peril, take her flying on a dragon, and she’s mad because he was here and not across the sea? “Err… I was in Romania. Dumbledore” he nodded his head toward the figure in the distance “came out and talked to me about getting some help for the battle.” His face brightened as he remembered the conversations. “He had a really brilliant idea for getting around the ministry approval needed to bring in dragons. We basically smuggled…”

“Fascinating.” Pansy cut him off, smiling happily at him. Charlie blinked at her rapid mood change. “Charlie, can I ask you something?”

He gave her a wary look, suddenly afraid of her shifting emotions. “Sure.”

Pansy gave him a brilliant smile. “Will you go out with me?”

Charlie stared at her. “You’re asking me out?”

“Yep.”

“In the middle of a battle?”

“Yep.”

He shrugged. “OK.”

Pansy grinned; reaching up to kiss him before turning away to cast several spells over the dragons shoulders. Spells? Oh right, they were fighting. Shaking his head, Charlie grinned cheerfully as he returned his attention to directing the dragon. He’d always appreciated a clever Slytherin. 

HDHDHD

She could almost taste the Rosemary.

Morgana frowned as she strolled along the battle field. It was too soon, she thought fretfully. The rosemary should not be this strong yet. Her gaze lingered on the Forbidden Forest, the whisper of the wind through the trees feeding her apprehension. She suddenly knew where Harry was. A hoarse shout of pain drew her attention to the left, a familiar flash of red hair giving her pause. It was one of Harry’s little friends, she mused, the one attached to Hermione. Ron? She nodded in approval as a glowing figure stepped in front of the boy and began casting shielding spells while one of her Veela helped the boy to his feet and hauled him off towards the castle. 

Bellatrix Lestrange fought bravely, ignoring the shouts and exclamations of surprise as she dueled her husband to protect the child. Morgana smiled, well pleased as the Veela hair tied in Bellatrix’s hair glowed with suppressed fire, enabling the woman to help rather than cause unnecessary pain to innocents. The Veela had protested when Morgana calmly explained certain prisoners were to fight on behalf of Harry Potter. Couldn’t be done, they said. However, Harry was firmly attached to Draco Malfoy. Now that Bellatrix was able to see past the seductive allure of dark magic, she found it rather infuriating that the Dark Lord was treating her nephew, her only nephew, her beloved nephew, so callously. For that, she would fight against him. 

She smiled, watching in approval as Narcissa stepped close to her sister and calmly began casting spells with her. The two fed off each other nicely, seeming to dance rather than fight. Her gaze wandered away, lingering yet again on the Forbidden Forest, a frown marring her forehead as she took a step towards that direction. She turned her head at the sound of a hissing oath, watching dispassionately as a white arrow embedded itself into the flesh of the Death Eater in front of her. 

“My Lady?” Morgana turned, smiling at the centaur in front of her.

“Bane,” she greeted delightedly. “How are you this fine evening?”

The centaur frowned, lifting his gaze to search out the sky. “The stars are weeping.”

She nodded, again directing her attention towards the forest. The barest of ripples caught her attention. Morgana narrowed her eyes, watching an Elvin guard surround a seemingly empty space and proceed deeper into the forest. She looked at Bane, unsurprised to find his attention fixed upon the same image. 

“May I offer you a ride?”

HDHDHD

“Is it sick of me to say you look beautiful?”

Blaise said it casually, one arm wrapped protectively around Ginny’s waist, as he admired the Death Eater writhing on the ground under the Bat Bogey Hex she had just successfully administered. Ginny looked at Blaise like he was insane, glancing down at her matted hair, filthy and torn robes. She had a large bruise on her cheek, a trickle of blood seeping lazily from it, and was sweaty and dirty. “Well,” she began, “I wouldn’t say sick. But I would definitely concede with disturbed.”

He grinned at her, pulling her closer to kiss her lightly on the lips. He swore, yanking his wand up, when she was abruptly pulled from his arms. Blaise frowned, lowering his wand as he recognized their attacker; it would not help his relationship to curse the bastard.

“Percy?” Ginny’s voice was high pitched with shock as she looked at the man holding her close to his side. “What the Hell are you doing?”

Percy looked at his sister incredulously. “I am protecting you.” He announced pompously, only to yelp when Ginny kicked him in the shin and stepped back into Blaise’s arms. “Gin?”

She glared at her brother. “I am fighting with who I want to fight with and am perfectly fine. If you hadn’t been such a prat you would have been introduced to my boyfriend long ago. Blaise, Percy – Percy, Blaise. There. Now go away.” She turned to go. Blaise couldn’t resist smirking at Percy over Ginny’s shoulder.

Percy grabbed her arm. “But, but” he spluttered. “But I apologized to the family!”

Ginny whirled around, eyes flashing furiously, before slapping Percy across the face hard enough to knock him off his feet. She glared at him; in such a strong impersonation of Mrs. Weasley that even Blaise felt a fissure of unease dance up his spine. “It takes more than an apology to make up for the load of shit you’ve put the family through this last year! Now, if you haven’t noticed we’re kind of busy here, so I suggest you go fuck off and keep fighting.” She stomped off, leaving Percy on the ground gaping in shock. 

Blaise was laughing as he caught up with her. “Ah Ginny,” he teased, hauling her close and pressing a kiss to her temple. “Imagine all the fun we could have been having if you’d only been sorted into Slytherin.”

She laughed at Blaise, watching as Padma Patil kicked a Death Eater between the legs before binding the downed man with a look of intense satisfaction. Impulsively, Ginny hugged Blaise close before pulling away to smile at him happily. “I appreciated the gesture, but next time,” she began, “when someone yanks me out of your arms? Curse first and ask questions later.” 

HDHDHD

Harry felt curiously disconnected from his body.

Even as he walked, one foot in front of the other, Phinneas on one side of him and Firenze appearing on the other, Harry could not fight the surrealistic feeling of the situation. For the second time in his life, discounting all the obstacles he had overcome, the struggles and sacrifices, the pain and desperation; for the second time in his life Harry walked calmly into Death’s waiting arms. Willingly, eagerly, readily. He could feel them in his heart; the presence of the people giving him the power to make this decision. His parents smiling at him with tears in their eyes as they gazed at him in an enchanted mirror; Ron, clasping his hand in desperation to keep him from falling out of a flying car; Hermione, face pale and anxious, helping him practice again and again until he had the summoning charm perfected; Petunia, looking at him across the kitchen table with tears in her eyes as she told him she loved him; Narcissa looking at him with love and tentative hope; Draco… He stopped abruptly, absorbing the ache blossoming in his chest. He couldn’t think of them anymore. He would simply feel them; surrounding himself with their essence, their love and support, as he walked deeper still into the forest. 

Phinneas paused by his side, turning to look back at the path they had walked with narrowed eyes. He turned to Harry, an odd expression on his face, and opened his mouth to speak when Firenze cut him off. “The planets have been reflecting great changes, Harry Potter.” Harry nodded, frowning, looking between the two men as Firenze gave Phinneas a clear look of warning. He shrugged it off. Phinneas would tell him of anything unsafe came near him in the forest. A glowing light up ahead made the breath hitch in his chest, and Harry stopped walking; breathing deeply as he stuffed his wand into his pocket and removed the ring. The Resurrection Stone clearly visible through the crack in the rings shiny center. He gazed at it for a long moment, hoping his theory was correct. Praying he wasn’t about to betray the trust his friends had placed in him. Pleading with depthless desperation that he was not about to die in vain. 

“Harry?” He looked up at the quiet voice of Phinneas, gazing blankly before he was able to force himself from his silent reverie. He nodded to show he was ok, unable to speak past the thick lump in his throat. “Harry” Phinneas repeated, gazing at Harry in sympathy. “We cannot go any further.”

Harry nodded again, turning as Firenze clasped him on the shoulder. “Long have the centaurs resented Man and their arrogance. You make us proud to fight alongside you.”

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, before stepping away and walking towards the glimmer of light before him. He could see him, Voldemort, calmly sitting in the midst of a shining circle. Nine Death Eaters paced around the circle, eyeing the surrounding forest with something akin to terror. Harry hugged the trees, sticking to the shadows to delay announcement of his approach. He stared at Snape, starting as the man looked up and directly at him. Harry had never seen this expression on his teachers face before; such a deep sadness and resignation mixed with frustrated helplessness. And Harry knew, though Snape didn’t say a word, that his Potion’s Master clearly wished it was anyone but Harry having to step into the shining circle. Snape knew Harry was prepared to die. 

Harry didn’t flinch as Snape drew his wand and pointed it at his head, didn’t even flinch when the icy cold trickle over his body announced he had been disillusioned. He walked forward slowly, ignored by the anxiously shifting Death Eaters. He paused by Snape, laying a hand on the man’s shoulder. “My mother would be so proud of you,” he whispered. He stepped away, and into the circle. Harry was unsurprised at the tingle that flooded his system, stripping the disillusionment charm away and exposing him. He ignored the started cries of the Death Eaters as he appeared, gaining a perverse sense of pleasure at the shock reflected briefly in Voldemort’s widening eyes. 

He turned the stone. One.

“Harry Potter.” Voldemort’s voice was a low hiss. “At last we meet to end this ridiculous game of catch and release.”

Harry smiled. “Hello Tom.” He ignored the growl of anger and calmly took a step forward; deeper into the circle, closer to the man now standing before the chair. His smile turned wicked. “Did you miss me?”

Voldemort glared at Harry, stroking his wand with an impatient reverence that made the Death Eaters outside the circle shift uneasily. “Proud, are you Harry Potter? Proud to walk into death and leave those you profess to care about to die alone and in vain?”

Harry laughed, he couldn’t help it. “Oh Tom,” his voice was mocking even as he took another step forward. “Haven’t you realized that death is nothing but the start of a new adventure?” He tsked, shaking his head at the Dark lord sadly. “You limit yourself by fearing death. There are worse things to experience in life.” Harry’s mind flashed to the Department of Mysteries, the crushing feel of his heart shattering as he watched Sirius disappear beyond a rippling veil. 

He turned the stone. Two.

Voldemort glared at him, infuriated by this calm façade. His eyes flickered past Harry’s clenched fist to his right pocket where his wand was clearly visible. He smiled coldly. “Such arrogance. Are you not even going to attempt to prolong your demise?”

He felt it, the magic humming in the stone. He prayed with everything he had. “I will not fight you.” Harry’s voice was soft. “I die willingly. I sacrifice myself, I renounce the part of me that is you, so you may truly meet your end.” A tear slid down his cheek. Harry knew with crystallized certainty that were Voldemort to possess him at this moment he would feel pain like never before. Harry’s pulse was racing, blood pumping an erratic beat in his ears. The agony, the relief, the gratitude for all who had sacrificed for him, the fear, and above all the love. His emotions were swirling so high he could barely see. Voldemort laughed, raising his wand.

He turned the stone. Three.

“Avada Kedavra!”

HDHDHD

His heart stopped beating.

He couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t see past the figure lying on the ground. He heard Voldemort laugh, watched Harry’s body arc through the air to land so still on the ground. The damn Gryffindor hadn’t even tried to defend himself. Draco became aware of the tears rolling down his face only when his vision became so obstructed and blurred he had to wipe his eyes to see where he was walking. He barely heard the roars around him, watching as Snape, Firenze, and Phinneas turned as one to attack the Death Eaters, Dementors, and lingering giants flooding the clearing. He watched with detached interest as Morgana appeared, shrieking, only to morph into the scariest looking creature he had ever seen. 

The invisibility cloak slipped off his shoulders, landing in a glistening heap at his feet as he stepped forward. Step by step, closer to Harry. He could hear Voldemort screaming. Draco looked away from Harry to see Voldemort gazing in terror at four ghostly apparitions circling him. One reached out and scratched the Dark Lord, drawing blood. Uninterested, Draco looked back down at Harry. Still, unmoving, unresponsive. Draco’s heart resumed beating only to shatter and splinter inside his chest. 

He wanted to do damage. He wanted to maim, and wail, and draw blood and inspire terror. But he couldn’t. The grief was flooding him, the pain numbing the part of him demanding retribution. All he could see was Harry. Stroking Padma’s wand against his face, green eyes dancing with suppressed glee, as he insisted curses to maim and hurt were unnecessary and forbidden. He had promised Harry; no Dark Magic. He could not betray Harry, not even now, not even as the demand for vengeance whispered a seductive Siren’s song in his ear.

“I love you.” It came out in a shaky whimper, all Draco could manage as he gazed at the crumpled form of his lover.

He could feel magic surrounding him. Flooding his body as it came up through his feet and down through his head, meeting to form a concentrated ball of feeling in his stomach. The ring on his finger, given to him by Harry for Christmas, began to glow. Love burst into his heart, causing Draco to cry out as it flooded him with a force so powerful it hurt. The ball of magic spread to his arm, focusing on his wand hand, waiting to be released. Draco focused on every emotion he held for Harry, and uttered his spell in a shaky whisper.

“Agape.”

Draco felt the magic pour out of his body, almost jumping in its eagerness to reach the circle. He watched, feeling the power continuing to use his body as a vessel, shining golden threads leaping from his wand to form bands around the circle. He felt viciously satisfied as the circle began to condense under the pressure of the golden wards, inch by inch becoming smaller, trapping Voldemort in a shining orb of light with his ghosts. Draco felt a rush of relief as the circle seemingly passed through Harry, releasing him from the confines of the Dark Lord’s spell. Draco knew Harry was dead, knew he couldn’t save him, but the least he could do was bring Harry’s body back to lay him at rest. 

His love was gone. Draco braced his legs apart, fighting the crushing wave of despair. His Harry would never look at him with his sparkling green eyes again. Draco wanted to hurt Voldemort, make him understand the depth of his emotions; kill him if possible, so he could join Harry in death. Without Harry there was no light left in Draco’s world.

Draco was too afraid of the dark to allow for that. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*

Ooohhhhh...cliffhangers are fun!


	24. These Twists And Turns Of Fate

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

The battle concludes...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was like a cruel parody of a dream.

After everything he had sacrificed, every action made to ensure the boy’s survival, Snape watched Harry fall with a sickening pull of dread. He felt nauseous, dirty, betrayed on an indefinable level. The boy was supposed to survive. Hardly conscious of what he was doing, Snape turned sharply towards the Death Eater standing next to him. “Sectumsempra!”

He forced himself to ignore the biting pain of despair. Refused to dwell on the fact that he had failed Lily by not saving her son. Did not allow himself to contemplate the danger he was putting himself in by turning on his peers. Snape had spent a lifetime burying his feeling behind a wall of ice. His actions were precise, merciless, and automatic. He cursed, he blocked, he defended. He could not, however, bring himself to look at the body lying prone on the ground mere feet away.

A flash of platinum out of the corner of his eye, he could see Draco standing in horrified stupification looking down at Harry. Where the hell had he come from? I love you. Even from where he stood Snape could read the sentiment as the crying boy seemed to merely mouth the words. Fear slammed into his gut. Snape was running, dodging, hurrying, in a desperate bid to get to Draco’s side before his Godson fell as well. 

Someone slammed into his side, and Snape hit the ground cursing even as the figure rolled them both out of the way of a violent green light. The Killing Curse. Snape hadn’t seen it cast. He looked over, slightly dazed, to see Lupin kneeling on the ground; horrified and broken as he looked at Harry. 

“Not now.” Snape’s voice was harsh, but the hand he placed on the wolf’s shoulder was supportive as he pulled him to his feet. Lupin looked at Snape like he was speaking a different language. “Please,” Snape didn’t like to beg, didn’t do it often, and sure enough it shocked the wolf enough to divert his attention from Harry. “Remus, please. Help me protect Draco.” 

Lupin got to his feet slowly, tears dripping down his face. “The only son of my best friend.” His hazel eyes were vivid with pain as he looked at Snape. “Severus… the last of the next generation of Marauders.” Snape nodded, allowing his own pain to reflect in his eyes. Lupin nodded. “Let’s go.”

They turned, wands raised and prepared, only to throw an arm over their face from the blast of power radiating from Draco’s wand. The air warmed, seeming to shimmer with emotion. The Dementors screamed; an eerie, blood curling noise, before falling under the force of the light. Snape grabbed Lupin’s hand blindly, pulling him back, far enough away from the light where they could see. 

Snape felt like he was losing his mind. For the barest of seconds, outlined against the wash of golden light, he could have sworn he saw Harry’s hand twitch.

HDHDHD

All he could smell was rosemary.

It filled his nostrils, washed over him, and soothed the aching emptiness in his soul. Funny, Harry mused, lying prone on the ground, he’d never realized what an unusual smell rosemary had. Kind of sweet, yet sharp at the same time. Opening his eyes slowly, Harry blinked as the gate before him came into focus. He stood, wincing slightly, and looked around in confusion. He’d been here before; several times now. First with Hermione, then with Draco and Sirius. 

He was at Godric’s Hollow.

He gazed past the sign post placed in remembrance and covered in graffiti, ignoring the mass of twisted flesh mewling fitfully next to him, and looked up at the decimated ruin that was his familial home. A memory came to him, seen through Voldemort’s eyes, of looking through this very same window and watching a father entertain his baby with puffs of colored smoke before the mother arrived to put the infant to bed. A young family – happy, loving, innocent; torn apart due to an insatiable desire for greed and power. 

“I’m so proud of you.”

Harry turned at the whispered words, feeling the tears he had barely been holding at bay spill over and flooding his face with his grief. Lily stood before him, tears sliding down her face, as she looked at her son. And then he was running, stumbling in his haste, flinging his arms around his mother and clinging with every bit of strength inside of him. “I hoped I would see you. Just once more. I was too afraid to say it out loud, but I wanted it to be you I saw when I died.”

Lily wept, burying her face in her son’s hair, running her hands over his back, his face, pulling back just enough to memorize his features before crushing him close in a fierce hug. Harry didn’t mind. He could smell her, the sweet scent of rosemary, and he could feel her; alive and solid. Last time, walking through the forest towards Voldemort, they had been able to speak to each other and look at each other, but not once had Harry been able to experience what if felt like to be hugged by his mother. It was similar to being hugged by Molly and Narcissa – warm, loving – but with an undercurrent of something more. Something that recognized an answering chord deep inside of him that told him THIS was the woman who gave birth to him, who loved him unconditionally, who had willingly and without regret sacrificed herself so Harry could live.

A Stag appeared out of seemingly nowhere, pausing by Harry to butt his head against Harry’s arm before walking to the whimpering pile on the ground. Lily and Harry turned, watching, as the Stag stepped down firmly, crushing the being to death with a single blow. And then he transformed, and Harry was staring into the face of James Potter. As he was gripped into a firm hug, Harry reflected dizzily that this was way better than any magic mirror could ever hope to produce. This was tangible, and heart breaking, and healing, and powerful. This was bigger than anything Harry had ever imagined. He didn’t know how long they stood there, whispering, crying, laughing, clinging together, before Lily pulled away and smoothed Harry’s hair. She laughed as the cowlicks immediately fought her ministrations.

“Your father’s hair,” she shook her head, laughing.

Harry grinned as his dad pretended to be insulted. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing dear,” Lily winked at Harry, causing him to laugh outright. He was in shock. Were anyone to tell him that one day he would be standing with his parents acting like he hadn’t a care in the world, he would have hexed them without a second thought for playing such a cruel joke. “We should sit,” Lily continued, glancing at her husband with regret. “We haven’t much time.”

Harry stopped smiling. He knew it was ridiculous, knew he had prayed and pleaded that he would be able to return to his life, but he felt a selfish reluctance to leave this peaceful place where he could see and touch and smell the two people he had dreamed about his entire life. James draped his arm around his son’s shoulder, leading him to a nearby bench, Lily holding tight to Harry’s hand. “I know Harry.” Lily’s smile was sad as she raked her hand through Harry’s hair, unable to stop herself from touching her baby. “But you have been granted a gift. You have changed the future in ways you don’t even know; ways you didn’t even imagine when all this started. The fates are allowing you to live, as payment for the light you have wrought.”

Harry’s head was spinning; he blinked in confusion at his mother. “But what did I do? I mean, I know I changed a whole bunch of things, but I didn’t do that much and people still suffered as a result of my actions. People still died because of me.”

James rubbed Harry’s back lightly. “Spoken like the son of a clueless marauder.” He grinned at Harry’s glare. “Son, you taught the school about tolerance and not judging people simply because of situations they find themselves forced into. Don’t you think at least one of those people will remember that and apply it to future decisions? You brought purpose and friendship into people’s lives, giving them something to live and fight for. Name one teenager you know – Hell, name one person you know – who hasn’t felt disconnected or betrayed by society at one point or another. You improved life for so many people, and you did it without expecting any kind of repayment or retribution.”

“Baby,” Lily brushed her hand down Harry’s face, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close. “You remembered to remain true to yourself, and taught others to do the same. You gave people, good people, friends, a second chance at life love and happiness.” Identical green eyes shimmered with tears. “I am so proud of you.” She kissed his temple, his cheek, his nose, pulling back to smile at him. “You are going to love your future.”

Harry felt a nauseating wave of dizziness and closed his eyes briefly, clenching his hands around his parents, afraid to let go. “Don’t fight it son.” James spoke quietly, kissing Harry’s head before linking all three of their hands together. “We love you.”

Lily was weeping again, smiling with blinding joy at her son. “We love you so much.”

Harry’s world titled. He could feel blackness creeping in, the smell of rosemary swelling up to an overpowering degree. “I love you too.” He whispered. “So so much.” He could feel them, his parents, hugging him tightly. The dizziness intensified. Harry closed his eyes, trying to stave it off. He felt like he was spinning and spinning and spinning without end. And then he was still, and the dizziness was gone.

Harry opened his eyes to dazzling light. And someone, somewhere, saying the word “Agape.”

HDHDHD

His limbs felt heavy, lethargic.

For an infinitesimal moment, he simply could not move; he wondered absently if this is what it felt like to be petrified. Harry could feel the circle sliding over him, pulling away. It stung a little, and Harry felt oddly relieved when his hand jerked in response to the stimulation. Not petrified then. He turned his head and looked at the Riddle family; watching them hiss and spit and scratch Voldemort even as Lucius Malfoy laughed and did the same. Harry sighed, relieved, as he realized his hopes had been met. The Riddle family had come to pay their respects. He wasn’t too sure why Lucius was there, and he didn’t really care. He figured it had something to do with refusing to flee when Voldemort had captured him, but Harry’s head was aching too much for him to care with any concentrated effort. 

He rolled over, staggering slightly as his head spun drunkenly, and looked into the gob smacked face of Draco Malfoy. His love stared at him, gray eyes wide with shock and hope, tears streaming down his face. Draco started to shake, his wand slowly beginning to lower, and Harry hurried to his side. Gripping his wrist lightly, Harry steadied Draco’s arm, keeping it firmly pointed at the hissing figures in the circle. He looked at Draco, smiling slightly, and pointed his own wand at the circle. 

“Agape.”

Harry didn’t know what the spell was, didn’t know what it would do, but trusted that Draco wouldn’t make him regret repeating it. The feeling of energy swirling up his feet and down through his head was incredible. Harry gasped, back arching, hand clamping down forcefully on Draco’s wrist, as his wand seemed to explode with light. A giant Stag, a delicate Doe, and shining bands of white gold shot out of his wand. They silvery threads circled the screaming figure of Voldemort, contracting fiercely around Draco’s golden wards already in place, and brightened to an impossible level. The Stag and Doe formed a circle around Draco and Harry. Protecting the boys from curses and dark wizards; allowing them to focus exclusively on their chosen task. 

It was like someone had flipped a switch.

The minute the spell left his lips, Harry felt the ground beneath him begin to shake. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw everyone seem to freeze and in slow motion turn to watch what was happening. He could feel himself falling, unable to balance his weight against the sheer force of energy pumping through his body. He staggered, knowing for one horrible second that he was going to fall and drag Draco down with him, before strong hands caught and held him up. He looked over his shoulder, into the fathomless gaze of Severus Snape holding up a nearly unconscious Draco. Craning his neck further, Harry looked up into the damp face of Remus Lupin.

He felt drunk off the power singing in his veins. He grinned dopily at the two adults. “You know,” he said happily, keeping his wand trained on the ever tightening band of light before him. “You need to be careful Snape.” He released Draco’s wrist long enough to wag a finger at his teacher. “You keep helping me up and people are going to start thinking you like me or something.”

Ignoring the response, Harry focused on the scene before him. He could see Riddle Senior looking at the cowering form of Voldemort with a look of fierce satisfaction on his face. “An eye for an eye,” Harry heard. 

Voldemort looked up and looked directly at Harry. There was no pain in his scar. For the first time in his life, Harry looked into the eyes of his nemesis and smiled. He saw the realization flicker in crimson eyes, and then the bands tightened and the ghosts seemed to absorb into Voldemort’s body. He jerked, body spasming, mouth opened in a silent scream as the spirits ripped him apart from the inside. His back arched, only to be halted mid bend by the golden and silvery wards wrapping around him. Voldemort shuddered convulsively, the light seeming to bleed into his skin. 

One last time their eyes met, glittering green to flickering scarlet. Harry stepped away from Remus, from Draco and Snape, ignoring their shouts and pleas as he walked toward the frozen figure before him. Harry stopped inches away. “You sold your soul for power. You gave up any semblance of life for fear and uncertainty. I feel sorry for you.” Harry spoke to words softly, calmly, capturing Voldemort’s attention as surely as if he had been shouting. “I hope it was worth it.”

As if in a dream, Harry directed his wand towards Voldemort’s chest and tapped it gently. Instantly, the wards of light disappeared. Harry felt a stunning sense of déjà vu when he saw the light spilling out from inside of Voldemort’s body. And just like when he was twelve, Harry heard the panicked pained scream he remembered perfectly from his nightmares, and Voldemort’s body seemed to literally implode. The force of the blast sent Harry flying backwards. He felt his head connect sharply with a tree, he could hear frantic screams and pleading sobs, and then everything went mercifully black and quiet. 

HDHDHD

Lupin screamed, reaching for Harry as he stepped away from him, heading directly towards the Dark Lord. He could hear Draco screaming, spouting hysterical pleas as he fought to free himself from Snape’s grasp. He tried to move forward, tried to reach out to Harry, but felt himself cemented in place by a blast of pure energy. Lupin was not sure if Harry was aware of the golden bubble that appeared between himself and Voldemort, but it effectively closed off the two and made it impossible to hear what was going on. 

He felt his heart constrict in fear, his breath hitch, as Harry reached out and touched Voldemort with the tip of his wand. Lupin winced, hands covering his sensitive ears, at the high pitched wail emitting from the bubble. Snape reached over, catching Lupin before he collapsed in agony. Draco tried to take advantage of his temporary freedom and move closer to Harry, only to drop his wand and beat futilely on the golden bubble standing between them. “Harry!” Draco was screaming, his knuckles beginning to bleed from the force of his blows. 

And then the world exploded.

Lupin felt himself slam into the ground, felt the breath leave his body in a painful whoosh as wave upon wave of concentrated warm air passed over him. He could hear grunting and shouts as the energy radiated further and further; through the forest and spreading rapidly towards the very border of Hogwarts. Snape screamed; a sound of burning agony, seemingly echoed by many around. 

Images flickered across his mind, memories that were not his own and left him feeling confused. A moving portrait of Lily and James on their wedding day, a laughing Sirius at their side. A distorted image of James and Lily reflecting from a mirror, with Professor Quirrell facing him and Voldemort reflected in the glass. Fawkes, soaring regally, swoops into a dark and scary chamber. Repelling one hundred Dementors across a glistening lake. Watching Cedric Diggory fall under a blast of acidic green light. Ron and Hermione sitting nearby in silent comfort. Sirius falling through an enchanted arch way. Ginny running towards him with a blazing look on her face after winning the House Cup. Staring at a white coffin as it slowly lowered into the lake. Clutching Hermione’s hand in a cold and snowy grave yard. Searching frantically and diving, grabbing Draco’s hand and yanking him from a circle of fire. 

The pressure released him. Lupin shakily crawled to his feet. He felt warm, cleansed, filled with emotions so powerful he didn’t quite understand how he could have claimed to have felt anything before this moment. All around him people were groaning, climbing to their feat slowly. He helped Snape to stand, only to freeze with quiet awe when the Patronus form of a Stag and a Doe approached the two. He stood frozen, unable to think, watching his long missed family approach. As one, they bowed. Lowering themselves before Severus and Remus, acknowledging their assistance in helping their son. Expressing their gratitude in the only way they could. Snape stood as though carved from ice, tears streaming unchecked down his face as he stared at the Doe. And then they vanished; softly, like the gentlest of breezes stirring against their skin. 

Lupin breathed deeply, feeling invigorated and alive and rejuvenated. He could smell rosemary dancing in the air. Lily had loved the smell of rosemary, Remus remembered. It always seemed to cling to her, no matter which shampoo or body wash or perfume she used. She’d finally given up; round about the time Harry was born. Citing rosemary was her signature scent and all her boys better learn to love it. Remus laughed, giddy with the adrenaline crashing through his system. He turned, wanting to say something asinine and witty to Severus, and saw the crumpled body beneath the tree. 

HDHDHD

Hermione gazed blankly out the window.

The rational part of her brain clinically informed her she was in shock. She should drink a glass of water, go to bed, hug a fluffy pillow, pull the covers over her head, and hide until morning. The irrational part of her mind, however, reminded her there was far too much to do at the present moment to allow for such indulgences. It had taken mere moments after Draco dropped her off in the hospital wing for Hermione to deem herself fully recovered. She ignored Madame Pomphrey as she sputtered a protest and headed for the door, fully intending to rejoin the fight. Then the doors to the Hospital Wing opened and people began flooding in. Hermione never left.

Professor McGonagall vanished one of the walls, and transfigured an adjoining wing into another serviceable infirmary. No one was turned away. Right now the wards were split – Death Eaters on one side, students and people fighting against Voldemort on the other. Seamus Finnegan, Percy Weasley, and Susan Bones had been ordered to run to all teachers’ offices and retrieve as much Floo powder as possible. Since then the fireplace had not stopped. People stepping in to portkey the severely wounded to St. Mungo’s, Healers and ministry representatives stepping out to bandage and replenish supplies and take names. Hermione thought she would go quietly insane when Ron had been brought in. However, like her, he simply needed a few simple healing spells before he was up and helping. Personally, Hermione was worried about his mental health. Ron had been spouting some nonsense about Bellatrix Lestrange saving his life…

Madame Pomphrey finally ordered Hermione to rest, threatening to drug her with the dwindling supply of Dreamless Sleep if she refused. So Hermione took a break. But she could not leave the Hospital Wing. She was waiting; waiting for Harry, for Draco, for someone to tell her this was all a never ending nightmare and she hadn’t been so foolishly thoughtless to recommend reliving this terror and unease again. 

She jumped when two pairs of arms wrapped around her. Ginny and Pansy, banding close together, comforting Hermione with the silent support only close friends can share. “I’m so scared.” She wasn’t sure if the tortured whisper came from her or one of her friends, but the arms around her tightened all the same. They stood there, silently begging their boys to appear, when the blast of heat knocked them off their feet. 

Hermione could smell Harry. That slightly sweet and spicy smell that always seemed to cling to him when his emotions were raised. Out of all the adventures they had gone on together, Hermione knew when Harry was being guided by his heart; she could smell it. And when the memories crashed down upon her, trapping her in the secrets of Harry’s heart, she knew that somehow he was responsible for this incredible warmth and lightness and happiness. She could hear people gasping and screaming, but couldn’t move as the feeling of warmth and love crashed over her. And then she was free. 

Scrambling back to her perch at the window, Hermione watched and waited. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest; she could feel herself shaking from the emotions Harry had stirred up inside her. And then there they were. Bane and Phinneas and Morgana running at an impossible speed away from the forest, holding a small bundle in their arms. Snape, Lupin, and Draco dashing closely behind. Hermione turned and began working with furious energy; conjuring a bed out of thin air, producing a privacy screen to wrap around, using her impressive will to break past Snape’s wards on his classroom and summoning the strongest healing potions he had. So what if some of them technically were not legal. If they helped Harry, the ministry could fuck off for all Hermione could care. 

She was waiting when they brought him in, and forced herself not to react as she cast a diagnostic spell. Madame Pomphrey tried to shove Hermione away from the bed. Hermione didn’t raise her voice when she answered in a detached and polite manner. “I will hex you into oblivion if you even try.” Considering the impressive amount of animosity between them, Snape and Hermione worked together with an easy synchronicity. “Draco,” she snapped absently, gesturing to the pale boy shaking at the foot of the bed. “Hold his hand. Harry craves physical contact.” 

The hours blurred together. Morgana held a cloth firmly to Harry’s head while Lupin and Pansy adjusted his back and hips in correct alignment and held them in place. Snape put Harry into a healing coma as they forced Skele-Grow and Blood Replenishing potions down his throat; watching and waiting. Ginny and Blaise carefully rubbed salve onto his bruises, Ron sponging the blood off his friend’s body. Draco clung tightly to Harry’s hand, whispering in his ear when even under the effects of the medically induced coma he began to twitch and groan, soothing him with tender kisses and caresses when Harry’s magic tried to fight off the potion. 

Once they finished, Snape and Lupin carefully levitated Harry’s prone body, Draco holding Harry’s head, while Pansy and Hermione swiftly removed the blood drenched sheets and smoothed on clean ones. And they waited. 

They could hear the shouts and exclamations’ as Harry’s victory over the Dark Lord was announced, but still they maintained their nearly silent vigil. Narcissa entered quietly, sitting in a chair by the bedside and gently stroking Draco’s hair as he clung tightly to Harry. None of them had the energy to respond as they learned that Prime Minister Cornelius Fudge had lost his life in the fight. Dumbledore came by and sat with them, leaning close to Harry to speak softly in his ears for a few minutes. No one knew what was said, but Dumbledore wiped away tears as he got up to leave. Dobby brought them food, which remained largely untouched until Madame Pomphrey threatened to ban them from the hospital if they didn’t maintain their strength. 

They paced, they sweated, they spoke encouragingly to Harry’s prone form, and they waited. It wasn’t until four thirty in the morning that his raspy voice croaked for water. Ginny screamed, muffling the sound quickly behind her hand, before burying her face in Blaise’s neck and bursting into tears. Ron fell off his chair, smashing his face against the floor before jumping to his feet; only to fall again as Hermione shoved him back down in her excitement. Lupin shuddered, collapsing onto the floor as his knees buckled in relief. Snape, as always, showed no emotion, but patted Lupin’s shaking shoulders while muttering about idiot werewolves with appalling lack of manners. Draco and Pansy shot to their feet, talking at once, questions and exclamations rolling over the other. Narcissa smiled, getting Harry his water and helping him drink before silencing the talking children with one coolly imposing look.

Harry opened his eyes and looked at Narcissa. He smiled dreamily. “I saw my mum.”

“Did you?” Narcissa’s voice was tender as she stroked his cheek.

Harry nodded, winced, and tried to raise his hand to his head only to find it encased in a vice like grip. He looked at Draco and smiled crookedly. “Told you I’d win.” 

Hermione started laughing first, and soon they were all giggling and crying in semi-hysterical relief. Draco stared at Harry, emotions he was unable to speak swimming in his eyes. “Yes, well,” he began hoarsely. He paused, clearing his throat. “Just remember I forbid you from engaging in any more wars.”

Harry was smiling as he drifted into healing sleep.


	25. Picking Up The Pieces

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

WARNINGS and DISCLAIMERS still apply. 

Conclusion: Part 1

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Malfoy’s did not do emotional attachment.

Draco understood men, had, at an early age, deduced the power that beauty and sex could wield. He’d enjoyed wielding it; understood the game of it. Had watched his parents float through society galas and mimicked the coyly knowing looks and non verbal cues for as long as he could remember. He had never played the game with the risk of genuine pain, though. No, Draco had always been careful to choose partners who understood the rules. Older men, ones with smooth manners, hefty wallets, and guarded hearts. None of them would interfere with his future career, his ambition, because the rules were simple and always followed. Fun, excitement, romance. Learning experiences. With no spills, no tangles, no hard feelings when he moved on. No feelings at all. But plenty of poor judgment.

Now there was Harry. With him Draco’s power was different, his dreams were different. The rules were different. Oh, the fun was there, and the excitement, and the romance. But there had already been spills and tangles. At night, when Harry lay curled beside him, the weight of his arm around him, the sound of his heart beating slow and steady under his ear, he remembered it all. Malfoy’s also did not willingly show weaknesses. Draco knew that Harry knew he was having nightmares, though Harry had yet to discuss the matter with him. Draco could recite poems to the sound of Harry’s heart beat; he knew how it sounded when Harry was awake, and the slightly sluggish beating as his love slept. If Harry was afraid to sleep, Draco stayed awake with him. He frowned, thinking about it. Draco could not sleep if Harry did not sleep. How very fucking pathetic and un-Malfoyish. 

It was on one such sleepless night that Harry finally asked Draco the question that had burned in his mind since he’d woken up in the Hospital Wing. Draco had been dreading the day the conversation turned to this. Harry was lying on his side, idly tracing patterns on Draco’s stomach, when he sucked up his courage and blurted it out. “Hey Draco?”

“Hmm.”

“What was that spell you said? Agape?”

Draco tensed slightly, cautiously wrapping an arm around Harry. He spoke quietly because he was afraid he might scream. Draco really did not wish to review this particular memory. “Don’t be mad…” Harry immediately raised his head and stared at Draco. Any statement that started with those words could not be good. Draco almost smiled at such a Slytherin response from his Harry. “I don’t really know.”

Harry shimmied up Draco’s body; crawling up until he was looking Draco directly in the eye. “You mean to tell me that you used a spell against Voldemort with no idea what it was or if it would even work?”

A flush crept up Draco’s neck. “Well, I knew what it was. A little. I just didn’t know what exactly it would do.” He absently ran his fingers up and down the sides of Harry’s chest in a soothing manner. “When you fell…” He trailed off, looking away even as his arms banded tightly around Harry’s torso. “Jesus Harry I thought you were dead. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to sever him limb from limb. I wanted to make his blood boil in his veins and dance to the music of his screams.”

“Oh,” Harry answered faintly. 

“Yeah.” Draco swallowed. “But I kept seeing you. Kept seeing your face. The way you looked at me when you trailed Patil’s wand across my cheek. As much as I wanted to conjure a stake, tie the Dark Lord to it, and incarcerate him…” he laughed hollowly. “I knew you wouldn’t approve.” Harry sighed, dropping his face in the warm curve of Draco’s neck. Draco brought his hand up and gently massaged the back of Harry’s neck. They laid there, quiet, for several minutes. Harry jumped when Draco started speaking again. “I felt like my heart stopped beating.” Harry lifted his head, watching Draco as his blonde stared fixedly at the ceiling. “My mum, my friends, everyone. I didn’t care about them. I couldn’t think about them. I saw you, and you were broken, and I swear time just stopped.” Harry felt his heart leap into his chest as he saw the tears silently falling down the sides of Draco’s face. “I know it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, maybe a minute tops, but it felt like forever. And my heart,” he gestured vaguely to his chest, “it hurt so desperately.”

Harry nodded, leaning down to drop gentle kisses across Draco’s chest. “I know the feeling.”

Draco gave Harry an odd look, dismissing his words with a shake of his head. “Agape literally means love.” He gestured vaguely with his hand. “God’s love for all mankind. I couldn’t… a man like that feeds off terror and pain and hatred.” He shrugged. “I haven’t… I’ve never… The way you make me feel…” He gestured again. “I wanted him to know what he was missing. What he was risking by harming you. I wanted him to know the way that love makes you feel. How it changes you from the inside out.” 

“I’m proud of you.” Harry’s words stopped his stuttered explanation cold. He sighed, shifting Harry to lie more comfortably atop his body. Harry pulled back slightly, waiting until Draco looked him in the eye. “I heard you cast it. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew that if I stood up and repeated it, I wouldn’t regret it. Thank you for not making me regret it.”

Draco scowled, feeling irritated for no apparent reason. “How could you possibly know I wouldn’t say something vicious and soul altering?”

Harry snorted. “You think this wasn’t soul altering?” He shook his head, smiling at Draco. “I knew because I trust you. I knew because I love you.”

Draco stared at him. “How can you possibly love me that much?” He waved his hand, cutting Harry off as he opened his mouth to answer. “Yeah yeah, the whole ‘coming back from the future to save me’ piece. I get that. But I’m a different person now than I was when I fell in love with you then. How can you not worry I will wake up tomorrow and fall in love with someone else?”

Lips slightly parted, Harry gazed down at Draco. His voice sounded odd, his muscles tense. “Well,” he began. “I love you that much because I know for certain what my life is like without you, and I never willingly want to experience that again. However,” he paused, searching for the correct words. “If you decide tomorrow that you would rather be with someone else, I would let you go.” 

Draco looked at him, gray eyes wide with hurt and surprise. Harry would let him go? Just like that? Didn’t he know Malfoy’s were stubborn and wouldn’t give in even if they were coughing up blood? How DARE Harry say he would just let him go! After all the sleepless nights, and the worry, and the pain. That selfish bastard. Some hero he turned out to be.

“Of course,” Harry’s voice, mock thoughtful, pulled Draco’s attention away from his increasingly irate thoughts. “That’s only after I killed the other guy and scarred up your pretty body.” 

Draco started laughing. “Of course,” he agreed. He pulled Harry’s face down to his and kissed him possessively. “I really love you, you know.”

Harry smiled, snuggling deeper into Draco’s warmth. “I love you too.”

HDHDHD

The world was insane. 

Narcissa felt it was a telling analysis of how utterly out of her depth she felt that this opinion brought her a strong sense of comfort. Dumbledore and Amelia Bones were temporarily running the Ministry of Magic; the teachers were repairing the damage done to Hogwarts and strengthening wards, Narcissa and Minerva McGonagall were running the school and reassuring the students, and Sirius…. Well, Sirius was teaching the students poker. Narcissa frowned, tossing back her hair as she patrolled the corridors of the school. What did she know about comforting children? All this wailing and shrieking and seemingly endless need for attention. Why couldn’t all children be like Slytherins? All it took was a look and a gesture to ensure correct behavior while in public. Behind closed doors… well, everyone needed a safe place to fall apart. 

The children felt safe with her. Having been married to a Death Eater for more years than she cared to remember, Narcissa knew just the right spells and hexes to … persuade… parents facing incarceration, and parents incapable of correctly raising their budding offspring, to sign over guardianship. In three days time Narcissa had gone from a mother of one to a mother of sixteen. She shook her head, smirking as she docked ten points from Ravenclaw and escorted the pouting children back to their dorm. Honestly. She should open up her own school, where children would be taught educational as well as social mannerisms. Hmmm… there’s a thought.

Whispered voices drew her attention down the third floor corridor. Walking quietly Narcissa saw Pansy Parkinson telling off a third year Hufflepuff for disrupting the school corridors. Having finished her lecture, Pansy placed her hand on the girls shoulder and murmured a few quiet phrases that had the young one straightening her shoulders and nodding in agreement before rushing off. Narcissa strolled forward and gently ran the back of her hand down Pansy’s cheek, smiling in approval over her new daughter’s behavior. Pansy beamed back at Narcissa, falling into step with her as she continued her nightly watch. 

Take, for an example of insanity, the Death Eaters.

Trials were in the midst of organization, and this time around true Death Eaters were not able to blame the Imperius curse. When Harry destroyed Voldemort, the burst of energy produced had long reaching consequences. Double agents, like Severus Snape, found the Dark Mark removed from his flesh, to be replaced by a glowing lightning bolt. Similarly, Death Eaters and Dark Lord sympathizers, be them marked or not, found themselves with an angrily hissing snake burning on their arm. It was strictly by accident that Narcissa and the others had learned the significance of the mark. Harry had been sitting with his friends in the hospital wing when a Death Eater came over and shoved his arm in Harry’s face, demanding an explanation. Even as Snape, Sirius, and Lupin forcibly restrained the man, Harry’s eyes had focused on the tattoo. He made a strange hissing noise, listened intently for several minutes, and promptly bolted to the bathroom and vomited. 

Upon his return no one commented on the fact he was shaking like a leaf and pale as death. Clinging to Draco, Harry proceeded to list off every sin the man had committed as a Death Eater. He rattled off specific names, places, and curses, as well as the way the man felt as each act was committed. Rufus Scrimgeour, head of the Auror Division, took notes and questioned the man under Veritaserum. The Veela’s graciously agreed to maintain their placement at Azkaban prison until further arrangements could be made, much to the relief of the community as the cells began to fill. Narcissa smiled thinly, remembering Harry and Hermione’s pleasure as a women named Dolores Umbridge was arrested and sent away for heinous crimes against Muggle born witches and wizards. Narcissa did not know the woman personally, but her incarceration provided Harry with his first genuine smile since waking up so she really didn’t care. 

Harry needed to smile more. 

Narcissa inclined her head in greeting as Luna and Hermione fell into step with her and Pansy. “Straighten your robes,” she calmly demanded, hiding a smile as Hermione blushed and hastened to obey before helping Luna who merely glanced around as though surprised to not find herself in her bedroom. Those emotionally invested both before and during the war were having troubles sleeping. Again, for some reason beyond her level of comprehension, the children felt safe with Narcissa and routinely gravitated to her side. McGonagall was the only one currently displeased with her, but that had more to do with Narcissa removing Harry from the Hospital Wing and to her personal quarters. Madame Pomphrey offered a token resistance to this move, but quelled her doubts when she saw how at ease Harry was in her presence and how frightening Narcissa could be when riled. Not even Peeves dared harass the woman, and Dumbledore was currently too busy offering hope and restoring order to interfere with her decisions. That and he didn’t know the password to Narcissa’s quarters.

Dumbledore was not on Narcissa’s list of favorite people at the moment. The more time she spent observing Harry, the more she noticed the almost resigned countenance he developed when meeting with adults he knew would deceive or manipulate him in some way. That Harry loved and respected Dumbledore was obvious. It was equally obvious, however, that he did not know how to interact with the man when he wasn’t expecting or demanding something from Harry. That would need to change before Narcissa allowed the Headmaster unsupervised visitation with her young charge. 

Just thinking about everything Harry had endured in his young life, all the sacrifices he had made either willingly or unknowingly, filled Narcissa with a burning rage. She smothered it, for now, as she gestured for the children to precede her into her quarters. She nodded in response to the other children’s greeting, accepted a cup of tea from Molly Weasley, and smacked Sirius on the back of his head as she passed by. She felt she could rather like the idea of having a cousin if it gave her someone to hit on a regular basis. Narcissa smiled, felt herself soften and melt, as she saw the boys lying on the bed. Harry was asleep, deeply asleep, for the first time in days. Sprawled on his stomach, arms and legs intertwined with Draco’s, he looked young and vulnerable and Narcissa’s heart ached with the need to protect him, protect both of her boys. 

She brushed a hand over Draco’s head, remembering how that used to soothe him as a baby. If only it were still so easy to comfort and nurture. She dropped kisses on their heads, smiling as the movement made Harry mutter in his sleep and Draco tighten his arms. “Disgusting, isn’t it; the codependency between the two?”

Narcissa turned, startled out of her silent reverie, instantly tensed to handle a threat against her boys. She relaxed and lowered her wand when she noticed Snape sitting in the corner with an opened book in front of him. “Standing guard Severus?” She was teasing, but delighted in the blush that appeared on the Professor’s cheeks.

“Not at all,” his stiff tone belied the blush. “Potter has an unusual knack of getting into trouble, and I am simply ensuring he does not drag Draco into any more life threatening situations.” He glowered at Narcissa when her smile widened. “Besides,” he continued defensively, “recent events have me behind in my reading.”

“Ah.”

Snape glared at Narcissa and opened his mouth to emit a scathing response when Harry began whimpering and muttering on the bed. In a heartbeat he was by the boy’s side, rubbing his back and speaking soothingly. “It’s all right Harry, you’re safe. It’s over. You’re ok.” When Draco began to fidget Snape didn’t hesitate to reposition his arms around Harry. He kept up his soothing ministration until both boys were once again deeply entrenched in sleep. He stood there, frowning down at them, for another long moment before he stiffened; remembering Narcissa’s presence.

Narcissa felt like someone had reached inside of her and squeezed her heart. Her boys were having nightmares, and Severus was making sure they rested. She blinked, surprised to find moisture on her cheeks. Stepping forward, she placed both hands on Severus’ cheeks. “Thank you for protecting my boys,” she whispered, before leaning in and kissing him soundly on the mouth. Snape gaped at her in shock, the flush intensifying on his face. She smiled at him before sweeping out of the room.

Her heart felt warm as she looked around her common room. Molly Weasley was laughing with her son Bill while they baked cookies and treats. Ginny, Blaise, Fred, George, Pansy, Charlie, and Luna were playing poker with Sirius and Remus. Hermione was curled up in the chair before the fire reading a rather large book with a look of intense concentration, occasionally shooting looks of amused exasperation towards the loud group at the table. The environment spoke of familiarity and comfort. Narcissa felt her resolve harden. This was her family now; this is what she could offer to the hurting children now under her guardianship. She was not going to allow anyone to take this away from her. With one last searching look she turned and headed towards the portrait hole, laughing at the creative curses as Luna innocently placed down her Royal Flush over Sirius’s Full House. Smiling, she smacked Sirius upside the head again as she passed by.

Who was she to deny insanity?

HDHDHD

They were determined to not let him rest.

That was the inevitable conclusion Harry came to. People coming by at all hours of the night, approaching him without thought of whether or not he felt like talking or shaking hands or wading through the emotions stirred up by battle. He understood, he really did, but he was just so tired. His head hurt, his muscles ached, he felt horribly exposed and vulnerable, and he found himself wincing whenever anyone came too close to him. When Narcissa swept into the Hospital Wing minutes before midnight and informed Madame Pomphrey she was taking Harry to her rooms to heal properly, Harry was so overcome with relief he damn near started crying. McGonagall started yelling, Dumbledore was called into the fight, Sirius started roaring about his Godson’s right to privacy, and Moony joined in trying to get everyone to remain calm. Narcissa didn’t say a word. She simply smirked, snapped her fingers, and not two seconds later Harry found himself ensconced in a lovely, warm, soft, quiet bedroom with Snape pouring potions down his throat and Mrs. Weasley pushing warm and fragrant soup into his hands. 

“How…” he began.

“Marlin.” Snape answered shortly, waving his wand over Harry before selecting various bottles. At Harry’s questioning look he rolled his eyes. “The Malfoy family house elf. Wizards and witches cannot apparrate within the grounds of Hogwarts, but according to you Dobby assisted you on some grand adventure or another.” Harry looked around and spotted the elf hovering near the bed and smiled in greeting. Snape took advantage of Harry’s open mouth to drug him again. Harry glared. “We could not, of course, use Dobby to remove you from the Hospital Wing,” Snape continued, blithely ignoring Harry’s sulky face, “as only bound house elf’s can be forbidden to reveal information.”

“Harry dear,” Molly interrupted, swatting Snape’s hand away from Harry to spoon feed him a bite of soup. “How are you feeling?” Harry didn’t even try to answer, as every time he opened his mouth someone shut him up with potions or food. He merely shrugged and obediently opened his mouth for more soup. He wasn’t too sure where he was or what was going on, but he felt immeasurably safer with Snape and Mrs. Weasley than he ever had in the Hospital Wing. It was quiet, it was warm, it was quiet, he was safe, it was quiet, no one was attempting to maul him, and it was quiet. Harry was ready to move it forever, if only…

“Harry!” Draco, Hermione, Ron, Pansy, Blaise, Fred, George, and Ginny rushed in followed closely by a large black dog. Draco and the dog jumped on the bed at the same time, and Snape looked wickedly happy as he sent a stinging hex at the dog for disrupting his carefully aligned potions. Narcissa and Moony entered at a much more sedate pace, and from there the story came about. He was in Narcissa’s suite of rooms at Hogwarts. The room had the Fidelius Charm over it with Narcissa as the secret keeper. Harry was to remain here until both Narcissa and Snape were reassured over his health. Harry smiled; feeling safe for the first time in months, curled up net to Draco, and promptly fell asleep.

The nightmares started almost immediately.

One minute Harry was trapped in a graveyard staring into the lifeless eyes of Cedric Diggory, the next he was watching Sirius fall through the veil. He was walking into the Forbidden Forest with his parents, he was eleven and watching a floating mass of blackness sucking the blood from a unicorn, he was standing over Draco’s grave with such an empty aching sense of loss he felt like he was bleeding from the pain of it. He woke up sweating and shaking and terrified and embarrassed. He knew these were just dreams, he knew Voldemort was gone, but it was like his mind had decided now was the time to remember every fear, every negative memory, in order to exorcise it from his system. For the first week Snape took to sitting in his room at night, for which Harry was grateful. If he managed to pull himself out of his nightmares he would search desperately until he saw Snape sitting in his corner, watching him quietly and calmly and radiating protection. If he could not wake himself up, he woke up to Snape bending over him, murmuring platitudes until he went back to sleep. Why he felt safer with Snape than anyone else he could not say, and, thankfully, nobody asked him to try.

Draco barely left his side. One night, unable to sleep, he had lain next to Draco and startled when his blond began thrashing and pleading and crying out for Harry. Snape soothed him, too. Patting his back, and repositioning him on his side with his arm draped over Harry, with such an air of practice it had obviously happened before. It was awful to witness, but for some reason seeing that Draco had nightmares as well made Harry feel better. As the days passed, he was finally able to begin sleeping through the night.

He began secretly referring to Narcissa as the Amazon Queen. Dumbledore, McGonagall, and any ministry official were not allowed near him. Hermione and Moony developed a parchment similar to the Marauders Map that allowed for two way conversations, which was what “Harry” used for communication. Sometimes Sirius answered for him, sometimes Hermione or Pansy. Harry knew he should care, or at the very least feel bad for disrespecting his elders, but the questions he was asked were so completely asinine and redundant he didn’t care. Somehow Harry didn’t think that when asked how he was feeling the answer they were seeking was: 1. Smug – After all, he was living with the Deputy Headmistress, former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Potions Master, dating a Prefect, and had the smartest witch of their generation taking careful notes and collecting his homework. Who cared if he went to class? 2. Lazy – Harry woke up, was coddled by Molly and Narcissa and Draco, ate, slept, attempted his homework, and then repeated the cycle. 3. Empty – He’d forgotten that confusing sense of loss associated with having the part of him that was Voldemort removed. 4. Guilty – He’d survived, others had not. Simple as that. Yes, Hermione’s response was slightly more articulate.

Somehow Narcissa had managed to create a gang of students similar to the DA. She made it abundantly clear that Harry and Draco were not to be questioned, disturbed, or sought out. Those who dared overstep their boundaries or pressure those who knew Harry’s whereabouts found themselves waking up in the Hospital Wing or running from the school grounds howling in pain. One night, unable to sleep, Harry had wandered aimlessly around the corridors deep in thought. Several parents and Auror’s cornered him, but before he was able to sufficiently react they were lying on the floor unconscious and Harry found himself being led to the Slytherin common room and situated in front of the fire with a mug of hot chocolate. He was laughing with his new friends and playing exploding snap when Snape swept in.

Finally, Hermione put her foot down. Literally. She cornered him and stamped her feet and howled about how he only had less than fifteen weeks to prepare for his O.W.L.’s and he better be ready to rejoin society and face the repercussions of war soon. After all, as she shrilly pointed out, no one could call him a liar or insane or deny Voldemort’s previous existence anymore. All he had left to deal with was people gaping at him and worrying about him becoming the next Dark Lord. And if he could handle that when he was twelve and fighting Basilisks, and fourteen after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and seventeen after gallivanting around on dragons while being half starved and hunted by both sides, then now would be a piece of cake since the vast majority of all four houses knew a variety of interesting curses and would jump to his defense. 

So, here it was, the night before he was to go back to classes, and he still couldn’t sleep.

“Ppst!” Harry ignored the hissing noise, praying to whichever Gods existed that the person would give up and go away if he stayed quiet. “Ppst!” Oh, come on. Please? “Harry James Potter,” the whispering voice sounded angry, “do not think for one instant I spent the better part of a year sleeping in a tent with you to not know when you are asleep and awake!”

Groaning, Harry stubbornly kept his eyes closed, but lifted up the corner of his blanket in mute welcome. He shifted slightly when bushy brown hair tickled his chin, disturbing the sleeping form spooned up behind him. “Fuck Potter!” Draco sounded sleepy and irritated. “Tempus.” A creative stream of curses followed. “Granger. I hate you and your unsightly hair. It’s four fifteen in the bloody morning. If you must speak with Potter do it without hissing or being shrill or I will curse you beyond recognition and submit you to Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. Understood?” Having successfully delivered his threat Draco turned over and burrowed into his pillow. 

Harry smiled, still not opening his eyes, and reached back to pat Draco’s bum consolingly. Hermione sniffed. “Well really, was that necessary?” 

Hearing the very real threat of tears in her tone, Harry reluctantly opened his eyes to look at the girl now curled up in his arms. “Mione? What’s the matter?”

Hermione sniffed again, tears spilling from her eyes. “We haven’t had a chance to talk in ages. And I keep seeing…” she trailed off, shuddering. “Harry, you nearly died! And I can’t sleep because I keep seeing all these memories every time I close my eyes. Only they’re not memories.” Hermione started absently patting Harry’s arm as she tried to explain herself. “It’s like… It’s like I can remember all the times we shared that we haven’t shared yet, but they’re starting to seem unreal.” Hermione’s voice was trembling again. She sounded slightly desperate, and in spite of Draco’s threat was becoming slightly loud. “Does that make sense?”

Harry rubbed Hermione’s back soothingly. “Kind of,” he whispered. He looked over his shoulder at Draco, counting his breaths to make sure he was really asleep. Reassured, he continued. “I remember the way I felt… watching Draco on top of the Astronomy Tower after sixth year. I remember the feelings and the sounds and watching his hand shake and the tears in his eyes and the way Dumbledore looked at him. But… it’s blurry around the edges; muffled almost. It feels like a dream. You know?”

Hermione sniffed, cuddling closer. “I can’t remember the way Ron smelled.”

Harry blinked. “Um, what?”

“During the search for the Horcruxes. The night he came back after being such an ass and leaving? I remember turning over and smelling that ridiculous cheap cologne he used to wear. I hated it. But for the life of me I can’t remember it. When I dream about it, it’s diffused and seems so far away.”

Harry sighed. “Maybe we’re not meant to remember. We gave those memories up.”

Hermione was quiet for a minute, lying thoughtfully next to Harry. “We might not have succeeded you know.”

Harry froze. “What?”

She nodded. “It was the last part of the incantation that brought us here. You were asking me something,” she frowned, thinking. “Something about dragons, and it became really loud. Narcissa was shouting it out to us. Something about how if the fates found your contribution unworthy we would be transported back to the exact moment we left and damn the consequences.”

“What?” Harry’s voice was slightly louder this time. “Damn the consequences? What does that mean?” Hermione bit her lip. “Mione,” Harry’s voice was ominous. “Draco really won’t care if I hex you out of our bed right about now.”

“Well,” she began hesitantly; shooting a suspicious look at Draco’s sleeping form. “The changes we had made would remain in effect and we would have to deal with the consequences in our real time.”

Harry’s mind was whirling. “Neville?” He asked quietly. Hermione nodded. Harry closed his eyes. If they had failed, if they had not succeeded…. What would have happened in two years when he fought Voldemort if he had broken up with Draco and Neville was not there to kill the snake? Would he have even ended up with Draco? Worse, there would have been nothing he could do to fix everything because he would be arriving two years after the final battle had originally taken place. “I could have lost Draco.” His voice was flat. “We could have lost everyone.”

Hermione nodded warily, she looked rather frightened of him. “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh but Harry don’t think like that! We now have two years more with the ones we love than we had before. And if our memories are fading…” she looked rather distressed that her clever mind was failing her in some regard. “Well, without those memories we will be just like regular teens finishing our schooling. No fanfare, no threats, just… normal things.”

“Normal, right.” Harry’s voice sounded bitter. He was trembling as his mind swiftly ran through a list of worst case scenarios.

“Granger.” Draco sounded irritated again as he rolled over and pushed Harry down onto his back. He snuggled into the crook of his arm, smiling as Harry immediately relaxed against him. “If you are only going to upset Harry, I’m kicking you out of bed.”

Hermione laughed, relieved as Draco broke the tense conversation. “I’ll behave,” she promised faithfully, snuggling into Harry’s other side.

Harry looked between the two, rather bewildered to suddenly find himself in this position. “So… do I look like a teddy bear or something?”

“Umm, no,” Draco’s voice was thick with sleep. “You’re mine. That’s it.” He frowned, smacking Harry lightly on his chest. “Potter,” he began plaintively. “I have put up with your mutt of a Godfather sleeping on our feet at random intervals. Am I seriously expected to allow stray Gryffindor’s into out bed as well?”

Harry smiled, leaning over to kiss Hermione’s forehead. Sighing as she once again teared up at the gesture. “She’s like my sister Draco. Her or Pansy or Luna or Ginny. That’s it. I promise.”

Draco heaved a long suffering sigh. “If I must. At least you didn’t include Weasley in that list.” He smirked suddenly, blindly reaching across Harry and accidentally smacking Hermione in the face until he found her cloud of hair. Patting it to get her attention, he muttered, “Hermione?”

“Hmm?”

“Please can I be the one to tell Ron tomorrow that you begged admittance into our bed and willingly slept with Harry and me?”

“Draco!” Hermione may have sounded slightly more intimidating had she not been giggling. “That’s not quite what happened.” Draco merely raised an eyebrow and waited. “Fine,” she sighed. “Now go to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day and you only have fourteen weeks until our O.W.L.’s.”

Groaning, Harry tightened his hold around his family, mentally preparing himself for a full day of classes tomorrow. Including potions. Ugh. Hermione was right. Again. Getting rid of Voldemort was nothing - He still had two more years of school to get through.


	26. An End And A Beginning

  
Author's notes: Due to an unexpected curse, nearly everyone Harry holds dear has passed on; including his love Draco Malfoy. Then Hermione comes up with an idea: go back to before the curse developed and start over. One more chance at love, at happiness.  


* * *

WARNINGS and DISCLAIMERS and all that jazz.

Add'l warning: General fluffyness and gag-me-with-a-spoon sweetness to follow. Seriously. I mocked myself as I wrote this. However, I could NOT complete a story without mentioning Quidditch. 

Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! I appreciated your feedback and suggestions and moral support! 

Kisses and love ~  
Rach

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Now I want a nice clean game,” Madame Hooch paused, eying the two captains standing before her. “From all of you.” She jerked her head, indicating the two should shake hands.

“All right there Scar Head?” Draco’s voice was condescending, a smirk on his lips as he stepped forward and offered his hand.

“Perfect,” Harry responded smoothly, sliding his hand into the smooth cool hand before him. He squeezed his hand, trapping the blonds’ hand in his, ignoring the way Draco’s eyes narrowed. “I have, after all, loads of experience dealing with Slytherins. It’s all a matter of planning, discipline, and priorities.” Harry’s eyes traveled the length of Draco’s body clad in Quidditch robes. Green eyes sparkling with barely suppressed mirth met irritated gray. “And, of course, prayers for patience.”

Draco’s eyes lit up with laughter. Ignoring Madame Hooch’s irritated huff over the duration of a simple handshake, he slid his fingers around Harry’s wrist, caressing the pulse point that jumped under his touch. “Then it looks like we’re in business.” His voice had dropped an octave, slipping easily into the tone that was guaranteed to make Harry sit up and beg for attention before carting the blond off to bed. His smirk returned, satisfied, at the predatory look Harry sent him, before removing his hand and stepping away from his Gryffindor. His smile widened at the involuntary half step Harry made in his direction before catching himself. Today should prove to be an interesting battle of will. 

After all, Gryffindor versus Slytherin was the most highly anticipated game of the season. 

Katie Bell snagged Harry’s sleeve, pulling him back slightly. She saw the way Draco’s eyes narrowed at the easy way she pulled him to her side. Smirking herself, she deliberately leaned close and ghosted her lips at his ear. “Remember Harry,” she whispered, conscious of Draco’s black look in her direction, “we need to be at eighty points before you catch the snitch in order to win the House Cup.” Harry nodded obediently, his hair brushing her cheek lightly, before she stepped back. Katie wanted to toss her hair and grin cheekily at Draco, but one look at his furious face made her hastily step back to join her team. She may be a bold Gryffindor, but she wasn’t entirely stupid.

Harry looked confused by Draco’s suddenly rigid posture, as well as Ginny’s choking laughter behind him, but shrugged it off as he lifted off into the air. He circled the pitch twice before settling in a comfortable position to watch the game unfold. He was not surprised when Draco coasted to a stop beside him. The two sat in slightly tense yet companionable silence, eyes roving about. A flash of blonde in the stands caught his eye, and he grinned at Narcissa sitting primly in the Teacher’s Box next to Snape, Sirius, and Lupin. This was Narcissa’s last year teaching at Hogwarts. 

Due to the confusing maelstrom following the end of the second war, Narcissa had elected to remain at Hogwarts until both of her boys had graduated. The curse against the Defense Against the Dark Arts position ended with Voldemort’s death, allowing her the perfect opportunity to remain. Also wanting to remain close to Harry and Draco, Sirius had accepted the post of Potions Teacher. While not the master Snape was, he was proficient enough and well liked by the students. However, after McGonagall was heard berating him in front of the entire student body for teaching his class of sixth years a potion designed to make them burst into spontaneous song and dance routines whenever addressed by name, Sirius had reluctantly begun taking his post seriously. That or taught the students to lie better to their professors and not test potions on themselves until after class had ended for the day. Whatever. No surprise to anyone, Fred and George Weasley had been his most eager students and still kept in close contact with their mentor of choice after graduating the year previously. 

“Precisely what was that disgusting exhibition with the brainless bimbo about?” Draco’s icy voice surprised Harry. Brainless bimbo? Who… Katie? Smirking in sudden realization, Harry nearly laughed as he realized the best way to keep his Slytherin distracted.

“Hmm?” He responded lazily, spotting the tell tale flash of gold hovering around the Slytherin goals. A quick glance told him that Gryffindor was only ahead by twenty points. 

“You heard me.” Draco sounded irritated, his head beginning to swivel toward the snitch.

Acting fast, Harry reached out and clenched his fist in Draco’s shirt; hauling him to his side. Draco hollered, one hand instinctively clutching at Harry to regain his balance. He now had Draco’s undivided attention. Ignoring the furious glare Draco sent him; Harry dipped his head and licked at the sensitive spot under Draco’s ear. The blonde froze, a slight shiver working its way up his spine. “Hmm…” Harry repeated. “Ever wondered if it was possible to have a shag on a broom fifty feet above the ground?” Draco’s eyes widened, his lips parting involuntarily as he looked at Harry; anger forgotten for the time being. Harry smiled innocently, noting in satisfaction the snitch had flown away. He released Draco, grinned cockily, and flew lazily away.

“I wonder if the Slytherin seeker has been attacked by Phosphorous Mitligens,” a dreamily amplified voice inquired. Luna was looking over at Draco where he remained frozen in place. “He appears to have forgotten what he was doing and is rather flushed.” At those words Draco snapped out of it, threw Luna a dirty look, and went off in hot pursuit of Harry. “Phosphorous Mitligens travel in packs you know,” Luna continued; completely undisturbed by the cautious looks sent in her direction.

“Miss Lovegood.” Professor McGonagall sounded irate that she had allowed the spacey girl to gain control of the microphone. “Mister Malfoy appears to be fine. Perhaps you would like to comment on the actual game now.” Luna sent the professor an unimpressed look and resumed staring at the clouds. 

Harry was laughing silently – it would never do for Draco to see his amusement and become suspicious. Desperate to distract himself, Harry once again scanned the crowds. Dumbledore was there, in a brilliantly hued maroon robe, clapping animatedly as Gryffindor once again scored. He had resumed his position as Headmaster after eight tense months of assisting the ministry in gaining control. The election campaign for Minister of Magic had been a brutal race; each candidate fairly tripping over the other with false promises and assurances to the public. Only one individual in the running made no attempts to sugar coat his words or defend his past behavior. When Severus Snape smugly accepted the title, few were honestly surprised. After all, anyone who had the support of Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and the Malfoy family was naturally a shoe in. 

The press had gone crazy when Snape became the new Minister of Magic. Interviews with people commenting on his past, his relationship with Narcissa, even his dislike for Harry Potter all seemed to be worthy of front page coverage. It was when the press began questioning the safety of the children under Narcissa’s care that she had enough. Until Draco came of age Narcissa was in control of the Malfoy fortune. Using this, she simply bought the rights to the Daily Prophet, fired the editor, hired a competent replacement, and printed a very public statement that ‘slander’ and ‘libelous lawsuits’ were two of her favorite terms. It didn’t take long before others began following the Daily Prophet’s example and actual news began gracing competing papers. 

A yell brought Harry’s attention snapping back to the game. Ron Weasley had just blocked Slytherin from scoring… by taking a bludger to the head. Harry reflected briefly that he rather regretted Luna never having the chance to learn ‘Weasley Is Our King.’ The game was getting dirty as the two teams battled for points. “Potter!” Draco, slightly flushed, arrived next to him. “What are you playing at?” His blond looked annoyed, the snitch glittering into visibility less than five feet away. A flash of memory from second year flickered in Harry’s brain. Instead of answering, he sent Draco a wicked grin and flew off under the stands. He could hear Draco cursing as he followed, obviously taking Harry’s expression to mean he had caught sight of the snitch. 

Harry stopped under the stands, bracing a hand on the wooden support beam to hold himself in place. It was actually quite nice flying under the stands when not chased by rogue bludgers. Draco halted beside him, looking faintly concerned to see Harry braced against the stands. “Harry?” He reached out and pressed a cool hand to Harry’s face. “Are you all right?” Harry smiled at his love, reaching out yet again and pulling Draco towards him. A flash of awareness lit up Draco’s face before Harry covered his mouth with his own, suddenly greedy; rough and focused on taste and textures. From far away he could hear cheers and chants and dimly wondered what was going on. 

Draco pulled away slightly, eyes narrowed. “You’re trying to distract me.”

Harry shrugged, eyes lingering on Draco’s mouth. “Doesn’t take much effort.” He leaned in close; brushing his nose against Draco’s neck and absorbing the blonds’ unique scent.

Draco sighed, making no move to pull away further, but shaking his head in a token sign of resistance. “You should have been a Slytherin, Potter.”

Harry grinned. “I almost was.” Deciding he was done talking, he threaded his hand behind Draco’s head and pulled him back down. Draco opened his mouth immediately, the hand on Harry’s chest clenching convulsively and keeping Harry close. Draco tasted like toothpaste and pumpkin juice and something elementally Draco. Harry was lost as their tongues clashed together, Draco’s hand sliding down his chest to cup him through his robes. Instinctively Harry reached his other hand out to grab Draco further, only to separate with a gasp as the releasing of the support beam caused them both to nearly tumble from their brooms. Draco laughed as Harry frantically scrabbled at the beam again, before kissing him one last time and flying off. 

Harry’s heart was pumping furiously. Hmm… apparently there was a reason he was sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. He didn’t know how to play the games without losing perspective. Flying back to hover above the stands, Harry deliberately refrained from seeking out Draco. There was no way he could maintain perspective when he was this flushed and aroused. He would undoubtedly do something stupid that would cause him to wake up in the Hospital Wing tomorrow. He jumped slightly when he was abruptly hauled sideways – a bludger sailing by and missing his head by inches.

Draco snorted from his side, still holding Harry’s arm protectively. “What’s got your wand in a knot, Potter?” He grinned, unrepentant as Harry flushed deeply. Draco looked away, half heartedly searching for a snitch that no longer held his interest, still holding onto Harry. “I seduced you.” He sounded inordinately pleased with himself. 

“Seduced me?” Harry scowled at Draco’s smugly superior look. He knew he would be in trouble once Draco figured out his ploy. “Draco you damn near killed me!”

Draco shrugged dismissively. “Didn’t hear you exactly protesting.” He leaned closer to Harry, mouth opening to whisper in his ear when a flash of red interrupted.

“Harry!” Ginny gave a meaningful nod in the direction of the scoreboard. Gryffindor was in the lead at 110 to 90. Huh? Oh, right. They were playing a game. Harry shook his head and started looking around when Draco suddenly gave a yell and shot towards the ground. Harry blinked in confusion for a minute, before he too saw the snitch fluttering aimlessly around. Swearing, he took after Draco.

Draco was closer, but Harry was a better flyer. Putting on a burst of speed, they were soon neck in neck, hands outstretched in a desperate bid to grasp the fluttering gold object. Draco was just slightly ahead of him. He needed a distraction. Replaying their conversation from seconds ago, Harry called out desperately. “What can I say? Nothing like riding a broom to center one’s mind on phallic shaped objects.” In the two seconds when Draco’s head snapped towards Harry, he leaned further across his broom and caught the snitch. He felt Draco’s fingers scratch at the back of his palm, heard the muffled curses, and started laughing. They were mere feet from the ground by this point, and without thought Harry dove at Draco; effectively knocking both of them off their brooms and onto the ground. Harry flipped over in mid air, instinctively shielding Draco so he took the brunt of the impact with the ground. 

Draco was glaring at him, perched atop his chest, legs tangled together in a blur of twisted robes as they lay breathing heavily on the ground. Harry grinned up at him, comfortable with Draco’s familiar weight. “I love it when your hair’s all windblown and messy.”

If anything, Draco’s glare intensified. They both ignored the cheering and cacophony of noise as the spectators realized the match was over and Madame Hooch declared Gryffindor the winner. “Once. Just once, Potter. But oh no, last game we will ever play together as students and you still have to catch the fucking snitch!” Draco’s face was flushed, eyes sparkling as he tried to look angry and dangerous. However, after dating him for the last two years, Harry knew Draco well enough to know he wasn’t really in trouble. 

He grinned, flipping them over so Draco now lay on the ground. “You’re going to marry me, you know?”

Draco went suddenly and absolutely still, gazing at Harry with a conflicted expression. He opened and closed his mouth several times. Clearing his throat, a deliberately blank expression falling over his face, he looked up at Harry. “Are you seriously asking me to marry you when we are both sweaty and filthy and lying on the Quidditch Pitch?”

Harry looked down at Draco, feeling his first twinge of apprehension. “Technically I didn’t ask.”

Draco seemed to consider this, the sparkle in his eyes glowing brighter. He gave a decisive nod. “Right then,” he announced crisply. “Just so you know, I would have said no.” That said, he grabbed Harry and pulled him down. 

They were kissing quite frantically, completely oblivious to their surrounding, when strong arms abruptly hauled Harry up and away from Draco. “One hundred and fifty point from Gryffindor for shameless behavior.” 

Harry grinned, far too happy with Draco to take offense. “No offense, sir, but you’re no longer a professor. You can’t deduct points.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed at Harry’s cheeky response. “Apparently my Godson is still unable to teach you manners.”

Laughing, Narcissa stepped forward and smoothed Draco’s hair down. “Now Severus,” she chided, “leave my boys alone.” She looked searchingly at Draco’s dazed expression for a moment, eyes widening before her head whipped around to search out Harry. Seeing the equally vacant look she smiled. “Besides,” she continued, “Harry is practically you Godson-in-law.”

Snape frowned at Narcissa. “There’s no such thing as a Gods…” he trailed off, eyes widening as he took in the beaming boys now holding hands and the misty look in Narcissa’s eyes. He groaned. “Draco, I thought this was a phase. Wouldn’t you be happier with a nice Hufflepuff?”

Draco sniffed, tossing his head regally. “Malfoy’s offer no excuses.” He grinned at his mother before pulling Harry away and over towards their impatiently waiting friends. The party in the common room was going to be even wilder tonight than usual. 

Sirius laughed at Snape’s flummoxed expression before reaching into his pocket and pulling out three Galleons. Handing them to Narcissa, he patting Snape’s back consolingly. “Buck up Minister!” At Snape’s glare he started laughing. “Just think Sniv, this makes us practically related!” Snape suddenly looked rather ill. “My Godson and your Godson.” Sirius shook his head, watching as Pansy and Hermione stopped dead on their walk back to the castle; separating themselves slightly from the group before launching themselves at Harry and Draco with squeals loud enough to carry. 

Lupin looked at Narcissa appraisingly. “You bet on the fact your boys would be engaged by tonight?”

“Yes.” Snape looked rather betrayed at Narcissa’s casual admission. She shrugged, turning away to walk towards the castle. “I do know my boys.”

Sirius laughed, slinging one arm around Moony and the other about Snape’s shoulders and forcing him to walk as well. “I thought Harry would wait till graduation.” He shrugged.

Snape snorted. “The boy’s as arrogant as his father. You should have known he would not wait to think before making decisions that will affect the rest of his life.” He scowled as Draco and Harry disappeared from sight all together. 

“Following that vein of logic,” Lupin interceded mildly, wrapping an arm around Sirius, “you should have known better as well.”

Narcissa nodded graciously in acknowledgement to the greetings being called out, leveling a warning look at one of her children attempting to follow Harry’s example and sneak under the Quidditch stands. One look convinced the girl to head back to the relative safety of the school. Satisfied, she turned back to the conversation. Slipping her hand into the crook of Snape’s arm she offered him a consoling smile. “Whoever can accurately predict what our Harry will do?”

Snape caught a flash of maroon, and turned to see McGonagall scowling as she too handed over Galleons. Blue eyes met black and twinkled merrily before Dumbledore walked through the front doors with a bounce in his step. Snape snorted and looked down at his companions. Dryly he inquired, “Would you like a Lemon Drop?”

 

HDHDHD

So...thoughts?


End file.
